Wishes and Near Misses
by ilikecrystals
Summary: After "Tissue, I Hardly Know You" the boys struggle with Dean's decision. Wincest/Spanking reference. Pairing: Sam/Dean. Reviews are always welcome!
1. Chapter 1

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**A/N: This story is Part 5 in an ongoing saga, a follow up to "Tissue, I Hardly Know You". Most can be read as stand alone but there is some history in those other stories that I reference here that may be unclear for readers just tuning in. Go read them all, k? It's easier to follow my puny brain that way ;)**

**Don't just read. Read and Review. Reviews are precious nuggets of gold that warm my pickax (how's that for a description??) so please, feed me my addiction. Give me some sugar (or salt if you don't like it. I'm a big girl, I can take it.)**

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Dean wakes up slowly, the sun shining warm on his face, the dregs of the erotic dream he just had causing a hard-on like he can't believe. Shit, this is the third frigging morning in a row he's woken up like this.

Damn his stupid brother!

It's been four days since he told Sam they couldn't be together any more and Sam's made a point out of hanging around wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He searches the internet, eats his food and watches television, all bare-chested, his muscles smooth and tan, rippling under his skin and his jeans are tight, clinging to his ass, slinging low across his hip bones, the soft hair beneath his belly button just visible, pointing towards the sweetness below.

The first day, Dean was ok, firmly believing their new relationship was the best for Sam. He managed to ignore his brother's nakedness, mostly by not looking right at him but rather crossing his eyes a little and staring in Sam's general direction when they spoke. Made him blurry and off-center and took Dean's mind off of the warm skin that he ached to touch.

But that night, he'd had this steamy dream, all arms and legs and skin, hot tongues and biting teeth, and he'd woken up with a boner the size of Texas. Dean'd barely been able to wait, feigning sleep, until Sam had gotten in the shower before he ripped off his shorts and jerked himself to a sizzling, mind-bending orgasm, thinking of Sam's muscles and hip bones, the tantalizing hair descending down under those tight jeans and how soft that hair would be if Dean could just rub his cheek against it.

It had been the same the next morning and now this. Again.

Dean reaches down to rub the outside of his shorts gently, humming a little in his throat with how _good_ it's gonna be because he's gotta take care of this business before he can do anything else.

He looks over at the next bed.

Empty. There is a God.

The bathroom door's ajar and he hears the shower going and Sam's off-tune singing reaches his ears. His brother isn't singing loud, just a steady drone that's kinda soothing.

He's got time before Sam comes out. There's always time for this.

Dean shucks off the blanket, reaching inside his shorts to caress himself, trying to get a good grip but it's too tight in there and he's too hard, it's not working so he slips his thumbs under the waistband, pushing his shorts down over his hips, the cool air tickling over him as his dick falls free, bobbing up, hard and hot and his palm grips tight, squeezing as he jerks up from the base.

_There it is right there_ and his eyes close, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as his breath huffs out.

An image of Sam in the shower, wet, naked, water dripping down in rivulets over his chest, down his abdomen and trickling below rises up in Dean's mind and he pulls himself harder, dragging the skin up and down, breath hitching now. Christ, it seems like it's been years since he and Sam…

Now, in his mind, Sam is turning around, naked and beautiful, dick standing at attention, holding out his arms towards Dean, begging him to come be with him, touch him, love him.

Dean pants, breath gasping out, squeezing his eyes tight, flicking his wrist up and down, and now it's Sam's hands that are touching him, tossing back his bangs and smiling up into his face, gripping Dean with his long, slender fingers, his hot palm dragging up and down, driving Dean closer to the edge.

In his dream, Sam drops to his knees in front of Dean, opening his mouth, taking Dean into that hot, sweet pit of pleasure, making Dean's hips thrust forward and grab Sam's hair, tugging it back so Sam looks up into Dean's face, and Dean can see his brother sucking and pulling on him, making Dean dizzy with passion.

_So good_, he remembers, Sam's mouth always feels _so damn good_ on him and Dean can't hold back, his hips bucking up at the thought of that mouth, those lips taking him up higher and higher…

Dean's hand moves faster now, dragging up and down, palm pulling, tugging and suddenly, his body spasms, muscles stretched tight and he cries out Sam's name, moaning in pleasure as he reaches orgasm, bursting, pumping out all over his fingers and belly, hand moving up and down until he's finished, done and there's nothing left.

Dean's heart rate slowly returns to normal, his breathing slows and he gradually comes back to awareness. Eyes still closed, he rests a moment, knowing he has to clean himself up and cover himself but he still has time before Sam comes out.

Only he doesn't.

He hears a whispered, "Dean…"

He opens his eyes and there's Sam, staring at him, eyes hot with lust, underwear tented from the erection he's now sporting, mouth hanging open in awe of his brother's naked body and all that he's just seen.

Dean hears his own hoarse rasp, "Shit, how long you been there, Sam?"

"Long enough…" Sam says softly, licking his lips, looking at him the way a hungry wolf looks at a plump rabbit.

"Sam, no."

Sam takes one step and another, his eyes, ravenous, determined, lock onto Dean's, and before Dean can retreat, Sam's pushing his shoulders back into the bed, covering his face with quick kisses, lips touching his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and finally capturing Dean's waiting, welcoming mouth.

For a precious moment, Dean lets himself enjoy his brother's taste, like sweet honey in his mouth, and his brother's smell, soap and shampoo and underneath, Sammy, sweet and earthy, all sun and sky and sand and sea, smelling like everything Dean has ever loved in the world.

He can't let himself stay here even though it's everything he's ever wanted, to just be with his brother but he has to stop it now, before it goes too far. It's not good for Sam and _fuck it_, he hates being the responsible one but he can't let it happen, not even once or else they'll fall right back into it and all his good intentions will fly right out the window.

Dean kisses Sam again, one last time and pushes him away, shaking his head wordlessly at his brother, pushing him up and off the bed, and Sam falls on his knees to the floor, pulling at his brother's shoulders, nudging Dean's face with his, bumping him, begging silently for more, more kisses, more love, more Dean.

Dean stares at Sam's beautiful face and luscious body, a yearning in him so deep, so consuming that he shakes with the effort to be strong. He drags his eyes away from his brother and reaches down to yank his shorts up, grabbing the sheet to cover his bare skin and rolls over to face the wall, turning his back to Sam.

"Dean?" Sam whispers, "I…I miss you…"

Dean doesn't move, doesn't speak, just stares at the wall, pain searing into his heart. After a few minutes, he hears Sam moving around the room, the tinkle of keys and a jacket zipping.

"I'll get us some breakfast." Sam says woodenly and leaves without looking back.

Breathe. Breathe.

DAMMIT!

Dean suddenly punches the wall in frustration and rolls on his back, grabbing the pillow and hugging it tightly to him, the way he would hug Sam if he could.

"I miss you, too, Sammy…" Dean says to the empty room, "More than you could know."

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is a replacement chapter 2 because my first one sucked, I wasn't happy with it and it was too much to fix so it was best to just start again. My apologies to everyone for posting it before it was ready :) I hope you all think this one is better, I know I do and it's more where I wanted the story to go. Hope you enjoy :)**

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Sam's in the middle of the most erotic dream he's ever had.

_The blanket's pulled back gently so as not to wake him but Sam's body knows what's coming and it's flush with anticipation, erection already responding, rising with want, with need and warm hands run up his legs softly, fingers trembling over his skin like butterfly wings, barely touching and Sam gives a low moan. He knows those hands, those wonderful fingers that know just how he likes it, and he pushes up against his brother's hot palms, aching for Dean, yearning for his caress, only his and no one else's._

_Dean pushes Sam's legs apart, slowly, gently, and Sam opens his eye a crack, gazing at him with loving eyes. _

_Dean freezes in place as he hears Sam's voice, words thick in his mouth from the whiskey "I mished you so much, Dean."_

"_Shhh….close your eyes, Sammy." _

_And Sam does as he's told, letting his eyelids fall shut, leaning back into the pillow, feeling the tightness of Dean's fist as he grips Sam's rock-hard shaft, dragging his hand up and down, stroking him, Dean's tongue flicking out, licking and tasting, circling around, sucking gently. _

_Sam's breath catches and holds, hands going to Dean's hair, tugging on the short spikes, urging him to go down lower, bucking his hips up to meet Dean's sweet mouth._

"_C'mon, Dean, pleash" when Dean resists Sam's pushing, staying where he wants, sucking harder and earning a low groan from his brother's throat, running his lips down the underside of Sam, kissing and humming along the tender flesh, and back up again, sucking and nipping sharp-gentle, and Sam's hips can't get much higher, bucking towards his face, offering himself, wide open and gasping. _

_Sam's hands slap against the mattress, clutching at the air and sheet, knees bending and thighs spreading more, trying to give his brother as much room as he needs, thrusting up, backside clenching and flexing, going as high as he can and Dean runs his palms under him, squeezing the fleshy cheeks roughly until Sam cries out in pain and desire._

_Dean finally opens and takes him in, mouth hot and wet, savoring every taste, every flavor with his sensual tongue, sliding up and down, taking his time, the delicious slowness of it becoming Sam's undoing and he loses control of his hips, bucking up into that wonderful, sizzling mouth, onto that incredibly erotic tongue that tickles and swirls along his senses and Dean has him rocking and trembling, jerking and panting, knowing nothing except the pleasure and the sweet pain of nearing orgasm in his loins. _

_The fire in Sam's belly pools and spreads, flickering, flaming into shooting nerves, limbs and muscles tensing, bunching and he hovers on the edge, the sweet rushes of warmth that make his toes curl, balancing, teetering and Sweet Jesus, Finally- bursting, and he falls, wave after wave of pleasure racking his body, so good he almost sobs with it._

_Dean's mouth keeps sucking, drinking, swallowing every last drop and Sam, covered in sweat, panting, nerve endings quivering and coming down, pleasure pulsing every few seconds through his body, not wanting to give up that feeling…so good, so goddamn good. _

"_Holy shit…That wash fucking… " Sam tries to get the words out but he's so damn tired all of a sudden, it's like he has no energy left and he's dizzy, head's spinning and he hopes he doesn't puke his guts out all over his brother because that would really suck after Dean just gave him the best fucking blow job he's ever had. _

_Really should cover up before he- _

_The alcohol in Sam's body pulls him down into the abyss and Sam passes out, never feeling the gentle kiss feathering across his lips or hearing the whispered words of love breathed into his mouth._

_*_

Since the day he walked out of the bathroom and caught Dean masturbating, Sam has changed.

Sam had gone out to get breakfast but hadn't come back for hours, and when he did show up, he was empty-handed, swaying in the doorway with a sappy smile plastered to his face, and the stench of alcohol wafting from him enough to knock Dean over.

"What are you, drunk?" Dean had asked harshly, watching Sam pick his way carefully over to a chair.

Slumping backwards, Sam reaches into his jacket, pulling out a bottle and takes a pull off it, "Not drunk, Dean…drinking. There's a difference, you know."

"What?"

Sam takes a deep breath, patiently explaining, "Drinking…the process of getting drunk, you know? I'm in the process, Dude."

"Sammy, what the hell are you talking about?" Dean scowls at his brother.

"I don't want to talk, Dean, don't want to talk to you anymore. You freaking suck, man." Sam's voice trembles with emotions that've been pushed down and liquored up and he bites his lip to keep them reined in.

"Sam-"

"No!" Sam yells out, slugging off the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand, eyes huge shining pools of hurt, "I find you jerking off, saying my name, no, _whimpering_ my name, and then I try to touch you and you turn your back on me like it was nothing-"

"Like I was nothing.", He finishes sadly, lower lip trembling, his eyes brimming with tears, holding out his hands in supplication, bewildered, "How can you be so cold? How can you just turn it off like that?" Sam's voice wobbles weakly, "I don't understand."

And a tear spills over, running down Sam's face and he lets it go, leaning forward, letting more loose and they're dripping off the end of his nose onto the floor and he's rocking back and forth like his stomach hurts, digging his palms into his eyes and sobbing quietly, back muscles bunched up, shoulders heaving pitifully.

Dean reaches out to touch his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry for all of this."

Sam violently shoves at him,, "Get the fuck offa me! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don't need you pretending you care about me so you just keep that shit to yourself!"

Dean drops his hand to his side, whispering, "I'm not pretending anything."

Sam tips back the bottle, chugging the amber liquid down until it's mostly gone before taking a gasping breath, swiping a hand across his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the chair, mumbling, "Ok, now I'm drunk."

"Come on, dude." Dean grabs the bottle before it spills and puts it on the desk, pulling Sam up and when Sam gives a half-hearted push, tightens his grip and maneuvers him over onto the bed, letting him fall onto the soft mattress with a thump, pulling off his shoes and dropping them to the floor.

He pulls a blanket up over Sam and just before his brother rolls over, he reaches up to grab Dean's hand, pressing his lips to the warm skin and breathes out a sigh, the words so soft Dean isn't sure Sam said them, "I love you, you stupid jerk."

Dean's lips tremble, staring down at Sam's tear-stained face and swollen nose, "I love you, too, Sam. I love you, too.

*

Since that day, Sam stopped.

He's stopped trying to tempt Dean, stopped looking at Dean in _that_ way, and mostly stopped talking, ignoring Dean's, and the rest of the world's, existence.

He only speaks when spoken to, often grunting out answers instead of forming actual words and his sadness rolls off him in waves, depressed, hopeless, he quietly exits the real world, abandoning ship and leaving Dean alone to deal with whatever needs to be dealt with, no longer caring about himself or anyone else.

Sam's broken-

And he's been drunk for four days straight.

Even though he knew he'd asked for this, hell, insisted on it, it's almost too much for Dean to bear seeing his brother in such pain.

If Dean asks a question or needs some research done, Sam'll surface out of the quiet place where he dwells most of the time and help, dutifully surfing the internet and getting his brother any answer he needs, but when it's over, when Sam's finished the task, the whisky bottle is tipped back, the throat scalded with the burning liquid and down he goes, back where hurt doesn't exist, where he doesn't need to think or feel.

Watching Sam, hour after hour, Dean's guilt weighs on his shoulders, the silence oppressive in the room, heavy and aching, until Dean can't stand the noise of it and he thinks up reasons to call for Sam's help, just so he can see some life come into his brother's sad eyes.

Seeing Sam sink deeper out of his reach, the worry and frustration growing in his gut, Dean can feel the pressure building and knows it's gonna bust wide open soon and Dean needs to get out of here, get away before he does something that'll ruin everything and all of their heartache, all of their struggle will be for nothing.

He knows what'll reach Sam, what'll bring him back from the despair he's sunk into and Dean struggles with himself every second, every moment, to _not_ do that, to not go there. He needs to just let Sam be and hope his brother gets over it, knowing in the end, doing nothing is the best thing for both of them.

Sam just looks so fucking _sad_. Maybe if Dean justs…

Dean actually takes two steps towards Sam before he manages to stop himself. Shit! He collapses in a nearby chair, huffing noisily, looking everywhere but at his brother, desperately trying not to grab Sam up and kiss him until they're both breathless, until Sam reacts and starts to feel again.

He has to get out of here, get his mind off of this because between this and his frigging dreams, Dean's about ready to snap. His shoulders move restlessly under his shirt and he rubs at the tension in the back of his neck.

He needs some physical contact, warm lips to kiss and maybe some soft hands to touch him in nice places…a small tight hole to put his dick in wouldn't hurt either right about now. Then he'll be able to resist these damn feelings. He's just horny, that's all it is. That's what's making him waiver and rethink things. He needs to go get laid, fast.

So, he tells Sam he'll be back and his brother barely notices, not even turning his head to say goodbye and Dean stares at him, the longing, the yearning for his brother plastered across his face for the entire world to see. Christ, he misses Sam so much.

If he stays for another second, Dean's gonna break and take Sam right here and now, right where he lays on the bed, he's gonna kiss him and fuck him until neither one of them can see straight because that's what they both want, that's all they've ever wanted-

Dean turns and almost runs out the door.

He's not long at the bar before he's got the pretty bartender with him in the back room bent over a stack of wine boxes, shoving into her from behind, making her gasp with pleasure and throwing her head back, driving himself deep, pulling her hips to meet his thrusts, using his fingers to bring her to a shuddering orgasm before letting himself go.

It's a good one, nothing to write home about but not bad, considering it's just a poor substitute for Sam.

Once she's up and dressed, she's kissing him, telling him how hot he is and how great it was and Dean nods, satisfied, yeah, he's still got the touch 'cause she's practically purring at him and he says all the right things, pulling her close and kissing her deep and leaves her back behind the bar, grinning into the customer's faces, leaving her, as she puts it, 'well and truly fucked'.

As he sits outside the bar, clutching the Impala's steering wheel, he realizes he can easily do this, slip back into this role of the ever-horny stud and fool himself, and Sam, into thinking he's happy with it. Hell, he can talk himself into anything if he puts his mind to it, right? It's all about loving the one you're with and he just needs to keep reminding himself why he's at this point in the first place.

Dean hurts Sam when they're together. He hurts Sam. He can't let himself forget that.

With a sigh, he starts the Impala and drives back to the motel, a little less sad, a little more determined to follow through with the plan, no matter how hard it may become.

*

When Dean opens the door to the motel room, the loud snoring coming from the sprawled form in the bed makes him wince and he glares at Sam who's lying, head thrown back, mouth wide-open, ripping out a growl that would make a wild bear proud.

Freaking great! So much for sleeping tonight.

In the dark, Sam's covered only with a blanket, erection tenting under it from some erotic dream, naked chest tinted blue from the light of the infomercial playing on the TV. An empty bottle of Jim Beam lay sideways on the bed next to his hand, telling its own story.

Dean picks up the bottle and sits down on the other bed, a look of anguish streaking across his face as he stares at his sleeping brother. All the uncertainty just slammed back into him and he's right back where he was. Shit.

"Geez, Sam, what the hell?" Dean tosses the bottle into the trash, rubbing his face with a rough hand.

Had he done the right thing?

Sam isn't handling it very well, that's for sure. The bitch is, there's no one to talk to about it, no one to ask and Dean's instinct right now isn't trustworthy, not anything he can use and it sucks when you can't rely on your own judgment anymore.

His gut keeps saying he made the right choice but his heart, man, his freaking heart is ripped wide open and raw, the life bleeding slowly out of it and it's hard to stand firm against it when he can feel it gnawing at his insides, killing his spirit, knowing soon there'll be nothing left of him but an empty shell.

Sammy is the only one who keeps him sane and now Sam's gone away.

Dean's more scared than he was when Sam left for real because at least he could fight that but this-

He can't fight this. And he won't fix it.

This damnable thing between them, never satiated, never satisfied and always, always hungry.

And Sam's right _here_, day after day, with his incredible smell and his soft skin, those irresistible dimples and those freaking huge eyes that make Dean's heart melt every time they land upon his own, and Sam's so close, so near and it would be such a simple thing really, just to reach out and…

Dean grips his hands together tightly. Jesus, who did he think he was kidding? Did he really think, deep down, that they could ever only be just brothers again? He can hear fate laughing at him again, that evil bitch.

He closes his eyes against the view, Sammy naked and sprawling before him, and Dean wrestles with demons no rock salt can ever touch, gritting his teeth hard in his jaw, a feeling of desolation washing over him.

He doesn't think he's ever felt so alone before.

He quietly moves over to sit next to Sam, reaching up a gentle hand to pet his hair. Christ, he misses this kid, misses being able to touch him like this and be close to him again.

If he was awake, if he even suspected one chink in Dean's armor, Sam would be all over him right now, pulling him in again, and Dean would be lost this time. It had taken every bit of strength Dean had to break them apart, but like a good soldier, he had done his duty, done what he must and had ripped himself away from Sam, like the tearing off of a cherished limb, the wrenching in his gut so painful it made him gasp for air and he could hardly stand it.

He doesn't think he can muster up that kind of strength again.

His fingers stroke along Sam's cheek and, even in a drunken sleep, Sam turns his face towards Dean's hand, nestling into his caress with a grateful sigh.

Dean's eyes fill with tears and he chokes off a sob that rises in his chest.

*

Sam wakes up with a start to Dean slamming the bathroom door. Wiping the drool from his lips, Sam groans at the pounding in his head, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth. Christ, now he knows what shit tastes like. He rolls over and pushes the blanket off, sitting up carefully, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He rubs his temples with his fingertips, trying to get rid of the blinding pain that's screaming at him.

Naked, he stands, wobbling to the bathroom door and knocks.

"It's open." Dean's voice calls out from the shower and Sam staggers in to the sink to scoop up palms full of water, sucking the cold water down over his parched throat and then splashing it on his face, moaning every once in a while as his stomach rolls and turns, flip-flopping as his head spins.

"Sammy, there's ibuprofen in the first-aid kit. It'll help." The bathroom is getting steamy and Sam wipes at the mirror, looking at his reflection with disgust.

Sam finds the pills and downs some, working his way back out to the bed and sitting, clutching his head, waiting for it to kick in. As soon as his headache goes away, he realizes he feels strangely relaxed, his balls aren't twisted up in a bunch like they have been lately and he remembers his dream with a slight blush of heated skin.

Wow, that was a hot one!

Sam stands and moves the blanket aside, looking at the sheet for tell-tale signs that he came in his sleep but there's nothing, not even a drop which is really weird 'cause Sam knows he came, he can feel it.

The shower stops and Sam hurriedly gathers up clothes, turning when Dean comes out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel, water droplets still glistening on his chest. Sam studies his brother, who moves to his duffle bag to get clothes out, watching Dean closely as he smells a shirt to see if he can wear it another day.

Gradually, Dean becomes aware of Sam's attention and looks over at him quickly, then back down into the duffle, "What?"

Sam eyes stay on Dean but his brother's attention is on finding clean clothes.

"Sam?" Dean prompts, tossing the shirt and sniffing another.

Sam stutters over the words, "I had a dream last night that you woke me up and gave me a blow-job, the best thing I've felt in a long time and it was just so _real!_"

Another sniff and toss, Dean busies himself delving deep into his bag, murmuring "I told you, Sam, we can't do that anymore."

Sam nods, "It just…was so real. I mean, I know I was pretty drunk but I coulda sworn that-"

"Pretty drunk, Sam? You were hammered, as usual, and it's a wonder you can remember your own name lately. You need to stop this shit, dude. It's gonna kill you."

Sam asks carefully, "Dean, you didn't-?"

More rustling for clothes and Dean doesn't look at Sam, "We gotta do laundry, dude. Didn't what? Give you a blow-job in your sleep? It was just a dream, Sam, just a dream."

With that, he lifts another shirt to his nose, inhaling deeply, turning away, slinging the t-shirt over his head and dropping the towel to dress the rest of him.

Dean can't look at Sam, can't face him because if Sam sees his face, he'll know what Dean did, he'll know how sick, how weak Dean was last night.

Dean's cheeks burns with shame.

It doesn't get much worse than this.

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	3. Chapter 3

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**A/N: WARNING: This chapter makes reference to spanking, a kink of Sam's first brought out in my story "The Bet". Don't read if things of this type upset you.**

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Dean draws back his arm, swinging the belt high over his shoulder and brings it down with a _CRACK_ across Sam's backside, his brother's cry of pain reaching Dean's ears a second later, making his dick jump in response. Christ, he's really getting off on this and he doesn't know how in the hell he's _not_ going to take Sammy right where he stands, once this is over. Somehow, someway, he's gotta find the strength to resist.

He reaches forward, rubbing his hand across the blazing hot cheeks, earning a moan of pleasure from Sam as he thrusts himself back into Dean's palm, "You need more, Sammy?"

His brother pants his answer, "Yes, God, yes…"

Dean steps back and lifts the belt, bringing it down hard. The only sounds in the room are smacking flesh and whimpers of pain as Dean brings Sam home.

*

Dean's barreling down the road doing eighty with only the open road and moonlight staring at him.

He hears a choking sound and glances over at Sam, sees it coming before it happens, sees Sammy swallowing quick and jerky and Dean yanks at the wheel, screeching to a halt on the shoulder, reaching over to open Sam's door and pushing him halfway out. The retching noises match the rhythm of the Judas Priest song pulsing out of the speakers.

"Christ, Sam, this is fucking wonderful!"

Sam, skin pale and clammy, hair plastered to his forehead, stinking like sour whiskey, leans back in to lie against the seat, running his hand over his mouth and giving a shaky breath. He closes his eyes, shutting out Dean's anger.

"Ya done?" Dean asks sarcastically.

Sam nods without seeming to move his head, obviously fighting the spinning in his brain. He slaps a hand up on the window for stability, swallowing hard, trying to keep his stomach down.

"I swear to God, Sammy, if you puke in my car, you're dead. Roll down your window, man, you stink."

Soon, fresh air is blowing through, and Sam finally passes out but Dean keeps a sharp eye on him in case he hurls again. Dean's been driving all night, taking Sam to Bobby's house, even though he hasn't told Sam that yet. He's already had to stop three times for Sam to barf and he just wants to _get_ there, damn it!

Finally,_ finally_, they pull into town and Dean gets them checked into a motel, not wanting Sam to know about Bobby just yet. He wants to give Sam a chance to sleep it off some before they do an intervention on his ass.

Half dragging, half carrying Sam, Dean gets his brother into the room and onto a bed, rolling Sam over on his side so he won't choke if he vomits.

Sitting in a chair, Dean watches Sam snore, hoping to hell Bobby can help fix this mess and it's not too late, hoping Sam won't say anything to Bobby about what they been doing and praying that just this once, he's made the right decision about something.

Dean feels his body relaxing and his limbs go heavy, fighting to keep his eyes open and then just letting go, easing into sleep.

Sam comes in his dream, with his sad eyes and pouting lips, begging Dean to give back what he stole from them because all that sense of duty crap doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is when Dean wraps his arms around Sam, warm and tight.

Dream-Sam comes close enough to bump foreheads and whispers into his mouth, "You're killing me, Dean."

Trying to make his brother understand, he breathes, "Sammy, you just have to hold out a little bit more and the hard part'll be over."

"No, Dean. It'll never be over and no matter what you say; you can't resist me much longer."

Dean wakes with a start, heart pounding in his chest because he knows Dream-Sam is right. It won't be long till he breaks, it's only a matter of time and all his good intentions don't amount to shit in the face of the freaking need coming from his aching heart.

The damn thing is gonna be the death of him one of these days.

Dean stares at Sam's face with sad eyes, knowing every line, every curve of his brother just like he does his own body, Sam is as natural, as necessary to him as breathing and it's Dean's fault that Sam's in such a bad way now. Shit, he's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't.

He left Sam so he wouldn't hurt him and he hurt him by leaving him. So, now what's he supposed to do? Back down and tell Sam he didn't mean any of it? No way. He still thinks he made the right call even though they're both hurting so much.

That's when he thought of Bobby.

He knows he shouldn't involve Bobby but he's at his wits end, he's apologized, tried talking, yelling, coaxing, threatening and he _still_ isn't able to reach Sam, so maybe Bobby's plain talk will get through, find Sam and bring him back.

Too late now to second guess. Dean grabs his coat and heads out, driving over to Bobby's salvage yard to find the man himself outside, bent under the hood of a sweet '67 Mustang. After they exchange greetings, Dean starts telling him about Sam.

Handing Bobby a wrench, Dean's voice is thick with worry, "Bobby, he's just outta control and he's mad at me so he's not listening to anything I have to say."

Bobby grimaces as he tries to loosen a bolt, "What's he mad at you for?"

"Long story. I did something he didn't like and he's holding a grudge. Here, let me try…"

Bobby's eyes twinkle as he hands over the wrench, "Doesn't seem like that long of a story. So Sam's drinking?"

"Ahhh, that's it!" With a mighty pull, Dean gets that one loose and starts to work on another one, "Drunk, Bobby, all the time now. He can't even hunt anymore. We gotta do something."

*

Back at the motel, Sam gives him the innocent, big eyed puppy look, "I'm fine, Bobby. I'm gonna stop today, I promise."

"Dean says you're not fine and you look like shit, boy. When's the last time you ate?" Bobby sniffs, "Or showered?"

Sam shrugs, "Dean needs to mind his own business" and looks pointedly at his brother over Bobby's head.

Dean looks uncomfortable, "Sammy, I thought you'd listen to Bobby seeing as you won't listen to me."

"Listened to you plenty. Heard what you had to say. Don't want to hear any more from you 'cause you're a jerk."

"Sam, come on!" Dean's getting exasperated, "I said I was sorry, over and over again. How many times do I gotta say it before you get over this?"

Sam's hands shake as he rubs his thighs, eyes fixing on Dean with an angry glare "Doesn't matter how sorry you are, Dean. All the 'sorry's' in the world can't fix what you broke here."

Dean flicks his eyes to Bobby and then back to Sam, mumbling, "Sammy, watch yourself…"

"Hey, you're the one brought Bobby here, Dean, not me. You don't want him to know what's been going on?"

Bobby shoots Dean a questioning look and Dean reaches out and grabs Sam by the shirt, hauling him to his feet "That's enough – time to sober up, Sam."

He drags Sam over to the bathroom, shoving him into the shower with all his clothes on and holding him there bodily, turning on the water and grabbing the shampoo, "Bobby's right – you stink!"

Dean sidesteps easily when Sam swings wild, shoving his brother against the wall and pulling him down, making Sam, who's hung-over and off-balance, fall hard onto his hands and knees. The roar of the water almost covers the cussing pouring out of Sam's mouth as Dean straddles his back and uncaps the shampoo, pouring it all over Sam's head, roughly scrubbing his brother's filthy hair, raking his fingernails through his scalp.

Bobby yells in, "Turn on the cold water and hold him under it – that'll sober him up! He needs to wash his body, too."

The suds run into Sam's eyes and starts burning, making Sam rear up, trying to struggle to his feet and almost throwing Dean off but Dean digs in with his knees and hangs on, yelling for Bobby to come help. Bobby steps in, slipping on the soapy shower floor, and grabs Sam, helping Dean wrestle him back down to the ground before trying to get Sam's stained shirt off over his head.

Sam catches Bobby a sharp clip under the chin, yelling, "Sons of bitches!"

Bobby grabs Sam's face, yanking it up to look at him and snarls out, "You best settle down, boy, before I wallop you!"

Dean soaps up a washcloth and pushes it into Sam's fist, "You wanna wash yourself or do I need to do it, Sam?"

Sam looks up at them, eyes red from the drink and soap, and his face screws up ready to let loose some satisfying 'fuck you's' when Bobby says, "Give it up, son, you're getting clean and sober even if we have to knock you unconscious to get her done. Now, are you gonna do it or are we?"

Sam's shoulders slump. He looks exhausted, shaky and panting, and he nods slowly, "Ok, Bobby, ok, I'll do it."

Dean tries to help him up and Sam shoves him away, "Get your fucking hands off me! I'm doing this for Bobby, not you!" as he struggles to his feet.

Sam gives Dean a hostile look. "I don't need you here, Dean so why don't you just leave?"

Wounded, Dean gives a tired sigh and steps out of the shower, dripping, to shuck off his wet clothes, grabbing a towel and drying off as best as he can, saying dejectedly as he leaves the bathroom, "I'll bring you in some clean clothes, Sam."

"Hey, don't bother!" Sam yells over the sounds of the water.

Bobby scolds, "Sam, come on! Let your brother help you."

"No!" Sam is firm, "I don't need his help."

Sighing deep, Bobby shakes his head, "Whatever, Sam. Are you good here 'cause I'd like to dry off?"

"Yeah, I got it Bobby." Sam pulls off the rest of his clothes, scrubbing himself with soap and washing his hair again.

"I'll send Dean out for coffee and lots of it." Bobby steps out, pulling off his shirt and trying to dry himself off but it's useless, he's dripping wet and this little towel is laughing at him.

Sam starts to sputter and Bobby snaps, "No back talk, boy!" and Sam wisely shuts his mouth, rinsing his body, not wanting to admit he feels a lot better and he's glad Dean stopped him before he spilled the beans to Bobby. He'd never admit that to Dean, though.

"If I'd a known I was gonna take a bath, I'd a brought some extra clothes." Bobby mentions to no one in particular.

Sam calls out, "Dean's clothes'll probably fit you."

"I'll see what I can find."

When Sam finally emerges from the shower, he dries off with the last towel, holding it around his hips as he goes out. Right when he comes out of the bathroom, Dean comes in the door with coffee and food.

Their eyes lock onto each other and all the air is suddenly sucked out of the room.

*

Dean's mask slips sidewise and for a brief moment, he's wide-open and vulnerable, naked and exposed and Sam sees everything.

Lust and love tremble in those piercing green eyes, warring for first place as his hungry gaze rakes up and down Sam's body before he can stop himself. Color rises in his cheeks and he runs his tongue over suddenly dry lips, unable to breathe, unable to talk, but he can stare and that's what he does, his eyes like fingers, touching Sam everywhere, glowing flames in their depths, drinking in his fill of the tan skin and muscles, roaming over the sculpted shoulders, smooth, hard chest, flat stomach and God, that towel…Dean'd gladly just rip that off with his teeth.

*

A small smile curves Sam's mouth at the look in Dean's eyes, as he realizes that Dean still loves him, still wants him just as much as he did before. Sam guesses he knew it all along, deep down, but it still does his heart good to see Dean suffering just as much as Sam is inside.

*

Dean drops his eyes down to the floor and turns away, putting the coffee and food down and clears his throat, "Here you go. I'm gonna go out for a while, Bobby, and give you and Sam time to talk."

His eyes slide back to Sam's and Sam fiddles with the towel around his hips, drawing Dean's attention there, watching as Dean catches his bottom lip in his teeth and sucks on it, pupils dilating as another blush of color rushes to his cheeks. His hand reaches behind him for the doorknob, twisting and pulling it in, backing out quickly, never taking his eyes off his brother.

He shuts the door and leans his forehead against it, panting, trying to get his wildly beating heart under control.

*

Bobby nods, still looking for dry clothes in Dean's duffle, blissfully unaware of the electricity that's just crackled in the room between the brothers. "That'll be fine, Dean." but Dean's already gone.

After they both get dry clothes on, Bobby motions to a chair, "Take a load off, Sam" as he hands Sam a coffee and doughnut.

Sam starts babbling, "Bobby, look, I know I've been drinking too much, I know that, you don't have to tell me that…"

"Drink your coffee, son." Bobby says patiently.

Sam takes the hint and shuts up, tasting, then sipping gratefully. Dean got it just the way Sam likes it, hot, sweet with lots of cream and Sam closes his eyes in pleasure, letting the warmth slide down his belly, and the off-balance world rights up a little, and the dizziness in his head eases.

Bobby clears his throat, "Sam, when my wife got possessed and I had to – had to do what I did, I fell down into a bottle for months. I barely ate, barely slept…hell, I didn't want to live and that's the truth."

His eyes get a far-away look, lost in the memories, "Then, a friend of mine showed up at my house one day and pulled me, kicking and screaming out of that damn bottle, made me face up to the fact that I was still alive and I still mattered to the world. Made me realize I still had plenty left to give and I'm here to tell you, you do, too, Sam."

Bobby continues, "No matter what's going on between you and your brother, no matter if you think you're the most evil son of a bitch that was ever born and you don't see any way out of it, none of that means nothing and it don't amount to a hill of beans if you don't give the world what you were meant to give."

"Sam, make up with your brother, first thing. He loves you more than life and whatever it is he's done, I know Dean and so do you. You know it's only your well-being he's thinking of, so cut him some slack, ok?"

Sam has the grace to look chagrined and he nods a little, conceding what Bobby says.

"Lay off the booze. It's time, Sam. You been there, done that and now you need to pull yourself out and fix whatever's ailing you. Deal with it, deal with Dean and move on. A lot of people ain't been helped with you sitting around drinking yourself dead. Those people need Sam Winchester to be their hero and you're letting 'em down. You're letting us all down. So, get over it already and get back to it. It's past time, Sam, you see that, don't you?"

"I guess."

Bobby nods back and slaps Sam on the knee, "Tell me this little talk has helped you 'cause otherwise, Dean'll be back at my door, bugging me."

Sam gives a little chuckle and says, "Yeah, Bobby, it actually did." And he gives the older man a sweet smile, "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome. I'm outta here." Bobby stands up to leave and then turns back, "If I hear you drinkin' like this again, I _will _come back and whip you, you understand me, boy?"

"Yes sir. Hey Bobby…"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Who was the friend who helped you?"

"It was your Daddy, son. He and I were friends before then, not close but better than acquaintances but after that, we were tight, always had each others' backs and we swore we'd take care of each other's families. That's why, when he died, I stepped in. I know I'm a poor substitute…"

"No, Bobby, you're not." And Sam stands, pulling Bobby in for a bear hug, "You're always there for us and we appreciate it more than you can know."

Bobby slaps Sam on the back and pushes back his cap, "Catch you later. Tell that brother of yours he owes me."

"I will, Bobby."

*

When Dean enters the room, he's apprehensive because he doesn't know if Sam's still pissed or drunk or both and it's way too quiet and dark in here, which can't be good.

He hears water running in the bathroom so he calls out, "Sam? I'm back."

The water turns off and Sam comes out, wiping his mouth on a towel and he stops, staring at Dean intensely, longingly and he's across the room before Dean can even react, taking Dean by the shirt and pushing him back against the wall, hitting him hard into it before pulling him forward, one hand sliding up to grip the back of Dean's head, holding him as Sam's mouth finds his, tongue parting Dean's lips, sliding in for a quick taste before pulling back, only to dip in again, making Dean dizzy with the rush of pleasure that comes from below his belly.

Sam pushes Dean's legs apart with his hard thigh, grinding it up into Dean's crotch, feeling the hardness in his brother's pants rising up and pressing into him.

Sam breaks the kiss quick before Dean can push him away and moves, leaving Dean panting, hanging onto the wall with his palms, eyes staring at Sam in shock and lust, reaching up to touch his own mouth, not sure if that really just happened or if he was dreaming it.

Sam leans forward, close to Dean's ear and whispers softly, "Bobby says I've been too hard on you and that you're doing all this because you love me."

He pulls back and looks at Dean's face before he leans in again, breath tickling Dean's earlobe, "I know you're doing it 'cause you think it's for my own good."

Dean's not breathing with Sam this close. He doesn't move a muscle as Sam leans back again, studying Dean's eyes before moving next to Dean's ear one more time, "I think you're wrong."

Dean feels Sam's mouth sucking gently on his earlobe and he groans, unprepared and defenseless against this attack.

Sam slides his mouth down Dean's jaw, making him hot all over, whispering, "The only thing good for me is you."

Suddenly, Sam's stepped back and Dean is cold and alone, "Sammy-"

"I can't make you be with me and I get so sad about it, I don't know if I can quit drinking on my own. I-I may need your help."

Dean nods, "Anything, Sam."

"You have to do this if I ever start drinking like this again, ok?"

"Ok."

Sam gets a straight-back chair and moves it to the center of the room. He takes his belt out of his pants and hands it to Dean, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them and his underwear off his hips, letting them drop to the floor. He leans over the back of the chair and spreads his legs, bracing for balance, putting his arms on the seat and waits.

And Dean looks at the belt, then at Sam's upturned bottom and tries to find his breath, which somehow escaped his lungs and went to another body, "Sammy, I don't think I can do this and not-"

Sam's sad voice comes to him from below "Sure you can, Dean. You can resist me…you've become an expert at it lately. Be my big brother for me, ok? This _is_ for my own good, I promise."

Dean closes his eyes for a second, screwing up his courage and takes a couple of deep breaths. Nodding, he opens his eyes and steps forward, to one side of Sam and raises the belt high in the air, bringing it down hard.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

The Naiad spirit lives in the rain, the nymph especially comfortable in the swamp, singing in the trees and bedeviling passers-by on the adjacent highway. A playful and annoying sprite, it likes to cause people's cars to stall, always when it's pouring outside, to make sure the drivers get nice and wet when they're trying to figure out what's wrong with their engines. They always, unless they call for a tow truck, end up in the swamp and the Naiad takes great pleasure in kicking them face first into the mud, giggling into its ethereal hands, watching as the drivers struggle their way out of the mire.

It's all pretty harmless fun, at least on the spirit's part but this particular one has turned nasty, not content on mere mischief-making anymore, it's actually hurting people, holding them down in the mud until they suffocate.

Sam found out that an incantation, held over a special bowl that was forged in the fires of some Greek blacksmith, combined with the right herbs and oils, could imprison the Naiad and then banish it to a celestial plane. So here they are, armed with all the ingredients, bowl in hand (thanks to Bobby) and now Sam just has to talk Dean into using the Impala as bait, no easy task but Sam is back in full form, hasn't had a drink in days, and is not about to take no for an answer.

*

The rain is pouring down now. Sam carefully puts the bowl in the road, lining it up with the tire of the Impala.

"Think you can hit that?" He challenges Dean.

Dean turns the key and his shoulders relax as the engine catches easily. Thank Christ that stupid sprite hadn't done permanent damage to his baby. Otherwise, he'd be tempted to just leave it in the bowl forever. He actually still doesn't know why they have to send it back to its home but Sam says they should so-

He rolls down the window and leans out, getting drenched in a second from the rain, maneuvering the front wheel over in front of the bowl, gunning the engine and rolling over it, flattening it down onto the road. With a loud pop and a hiss of steam, the Naiad is sent back to its realm and the drivers on the highway are safe now from its vengeful sense of humor. Dean rolls over it with the back wheel just to be on the safe side.

Dean sees Sam in the rear view mirror pick the flattened bowl up and wave it at him, giving him a thumbs up. Dean pops the trunk and Sam tosses it in, then gets in the car, sitting on the seat with a wet squish, clothes sopping wet just like Dean's.

Dean hits the gas and they speed away into the night.

*

The car windows are misted up, rain pouring down outside, droplets trickling down the inside, the hot, wet bodies of the brothers making the air heavy and damp, Two mouths exhaling into the muggy, stale air cause the inside of the car to be soggy and close. To Dean, it's like breathing through a wet washcloth, slapping against his nose and causing him to hitch his breath in with shallow pants that don't reach his lungs and make him feel dizzy and unfocused.

Sam's looking out the window at the rain, hair dripping down his neck, clothes thick and heavy with water, squishing around on the seat, reaching out to aimlessly draw circles in the steamy window. The smell of him, musky, sweat and adrenaline mix together with the rain, fill Dean's head with erotic possibilities. God, he smells so damn _good_ and Dean can't breathe in here 'cause the air's so thick with the smell of Sam.

"Jesus, Sammy," he grates out, "You wearing fucking aftershave or something? You stink, man!"

Sam's panting slightly, too "I'm not wearing anything, Dean and you don't smell too good yourself."

"Lot better than you, that's for sure."

"Says you. From over here, you smell like shit."

"Christ." Dean mutters and rolls down the window, the rain pelting him as the fresh air rolls in and he takes big gulps of it to get Sam's smell out of his nose and thoughts, pushing away the image of his brother that's been with him for the past three days.

Sam, beautiful and broken, splayed over that damn chair in front of him, ass all red and welted, dick thick and heavy between his legs and after he'd finished whipping Sam with his own belt, Sam had struggled to his feet and gone in the bathroom to take care of that gigantic hard-on. Dean had gone out to the car to jerk his off, 'cause his excitement was just as large as Sam's and they had gone their separate ways to do their business when they should have been together, taking care of each other and this whole thing just _sucks_.

Now, Dean drives faster, needing to get them back to the motel, needing to get out of these wet clothes and this steamy car as fast as he can before he pulls over and jumps on Sam right here in the car because that's how close he feels to just losing what little control he has left.

He's had about enough of his stupid brother, is just sick of him, sick of constantly resisting him, sick of not letting himself have Sam–

And Dean's just reached it, that final straw, right here, right now and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, whistling mindlessly through his teeth, his eyes glittering hard, staring beyond the road, beyond the windshield wipers flicking and flowing, staring to just ahead, hot shower, dry clothes and getting away from this goddamn fucking _smell_ that's just driving him crazy and making his jeans pull tight over his growing erection.

He squirms in his seat, trying to give himself more room but he's so hard, it's starting to hurt and he's gotta hurry cause _shit,_ when he finally gets there he's _so_ gonna jerk off and he doesn't care if Sam's watching or sells fucking tickets 'cause he's just gotta-

Sam gives a quiet sigh, jeans rustling wetly, the sounds of Sam's breathing so loud in his ears that he can't stand it and when Sam licks his lips, pink tongue sliding out in the dark, Dean's breath stops, just stops in his lungs, chest so tight he can't get it to work-

Can't wait, can't wait, shit, he just can't wait any longer and that's _it_-

He yanks the steering wheel, pulling off the road and slamming it into park.

"Dean?" Sam looks over at him, surprise on his face.

He doesn't answer, just rolls up the car window and gets out, slamming the door shut behind him, striding away in the rain. They're in the woods somewhere and Dean's boots crackle on the wet moss and leaves, snapping twigs as he moves quickly in deeper, into the trees, away from Sam.

"Dean?" Sam's right behind him, "What's up?"

"Sam, go back to the car. I need a few minutes."

"For what? You ok?"

"Fine. Just go back to the car."

"No, Dean, not 'till you tell me what's going on."

"Damn it, Sam! Can't you for _once_ do the fuck as I say without arguing with me?"

Sam flinches in the face of Dean's sudden anger, confusion ripping across his face and he shrugs, palms up, "What the hell, man?"

"Go. Back. To. The. Car." Dean's voice is clipped with rage.

"No."

With a muffled curse, Dean snaps, stalking up to Sam, body bunched and angry. Sam tenses, looking like Dean's gonna slug him and when Dean grabs him behind the neck with both hands to yank him forward, Sam catches hold of Dean's wrists to hold on, tries to keep his balance but falls forward into Dean's mouth, hitting hard, teeth crashing and Dean's sucking out his breath, roughly shoving his lips apart, kissing him angrily, punishing him.

Sam struggles against him for a second and then softens, a moan working up from his throat and he opens up for Dean, bringing his hands behind Dean's head, holding him gently, letting Dean be rough, letting Dean hurt him, without fighting, without pulling away, just standing there taking Dean's punishment.

Before long, Dean's anger is gone and the stinging kiss quickly turns passionate as they rock together, hips rubbing and bucking, teeth biting and sucking, hands clawing, gripping, fast and hot against each other.

They pull apart, panting hard, the air heavy and shimmering between them, the rain falling down, and they stare at each other, eyes locked in anger, in heat and then they crash into each other again, sinking down onto the wet moss and sticks, tearing off shirts, wanting to touch skin to skin, shoving against each other, no more waiting, no more excuses and hands are everywhere, stroking, pinching, twisting, squeezing, causing pain and pleasure at the same time.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean grunts out harshly, "Stinking bastard! You shoulda just stayed in the car!"

"Nobody said you had to kiss me, jerk! What the fuck, huh? What happened to 'we can't do this'?"

"We can't…we can't…" Dean grits out, capturing Sam's mouth again and sinking down into heaven, letting himself have it, "Damn you!"

Sam sinks his teeth into Dean's bottom lip, pulling sharply, causing Dean to cry out in pain and he grabs Sam's hair, yanking his head back, holding Sam in place, panting, "Let go or I'll rip it out, Sam!"

Sam releases his mouth and Dean bites at his neck, sucking wildly, marking him with purple bruises, making Sam gasp and writhe underneath him-

And Sam's fingernails, bitten and chewed to sharp edges, scrap down Dean's back and reach between them, unbuckling Dean's pants and pushing down, running his hands over Dean's tight ass, squeezing roughly and pulling him forward, tight against his own hips, bucking up against Dean's, rubbing and pushing and he pulls Dean's head down to his, mouths crushing into each other, lips smashed flat against teeth, sucking, all tongues and lips and-

Dean's ass works and Sam's hands yank him forward, squeezing and pulling Dean's ass wide open and Sam's damn fingers are inside him, making Dean groan out his pleasure, making him grind down harder, muscles tightening as he rocks against Sam's dick with his own. The stiff denim between them is rough and wet, the insane friction driving them both higher and the fire in Dean's belly spreads out, warmth flowing sweetly through his balls and legs, up his spine and down to his toes.

Dean stiffens over Sam, raising himself up on his arms as he reaches the edge of orgasm, suspended for a second before he rocks his hips into Sam's one more time and tumbles over the side, breath comes out in a shuddering gasp, body jerking as he explodes, exhaling almost a sob, "Holy Fuck, Sam!"

He collapses onto Sam who's still bucking and shoving, chest gasping for breath under Dean's weight, hips slamming up into his brother's, whimpering, straining until finally, he groans, low and deep, "Here-ahh, here it is…"

He gasps with each thrust, pulling on Dean's shoulders and then burying his face into his brother's neck, trembling with spasms as he shoots off in his jeans, huffing into Dean's warmth, sweat mingling with tears and he hugs Dean tight to him.

They rest together, anger gone now, violence lulled into a calm peace and they bump quietly against each other in the dark, their faces pressed into the moss, the rain, forgotten in the throes of passion, falling gently on them.

Dean touches Sam's face with a finger, running it along the side of his cheek and down to his chin, watching the rain fall onto his brother's nose and eyelashes.

Sam smiles at him, a shit-eating grin if Dean ever saw one, "Still mad at me?"

"Hell, yeah! All I was gonna do was jerk off. You shoulda stayed in the car!"

"No, Dean, I shouldn't have. I'm supposed to be right here and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the happier we'll both be."

"This is a one time thing, Sam. Tomorrow, we're back to not doing this anymore."

Sam chuckles, "No way, Dean. I'm not going back."

"You don't have a choice."

"Yeah, I do. I'm not going to let you do this again. So you better just deal with it."

"We'll see, Sam."

Sam continues to grin at him, unnerving Dean a little, "What?"

"It's just gonna be fun wearing you down, that's all. I can think of worse things to do with my time than drive you crazy with wanting me."

Dean smiles back at him, a real smile, his first in weeks, and gives a big sigh, "Sure did miss you, jerk."

"Missed you, too, Dean."

*


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Don't just read. Read and Review. Reviews are precious nuggets of gold that warm my pickax (how's that for a description??) so please, feed me my addiction. Give me some sugar (or salt if you don't like it. I'm a big girl, I can take it.)**

*  
*

The sound of the shower reminds him of the rain.

Sam sits in the darkened room listening to the water, the glow of the dim lamp bouncing shadows off the walls, the broken-down motel chair creaking under his weight. It's been a week now, seven days of cajoling, urging, coaxing and begging, talking until he's hoarse and exhausted, until he's sick of the sound of his own voice and Dean only saying one word over and over.

_No._

_No,_ they can't be together.

_No,_ it can't happen again.

_No_, Sam_, no._

Sam gives a deep sigh.

*

The memories are still fresh in his mind; him and Dean, lying on the moss and wet leaves, the smell of damp pine filling their heads, twigs poking into their bare skin and rain splashing cold down on them but those things had been unimportant, almost unnoticed.

All that had mattered at that moment was each other, the smell, the taste and touch of each other taking over every sane thought and turning them both inside out, laying them wide open and vulnerable, gaping wounds of need and desire.

_God, he misses Dean._

Sam bites down hard on his lower lip, forcing his mind away from the memory. Dean had been adamant about his decision, and no matter what Sam said, he couldn't get his brother to back down on it. After a couple of days, Sam had finally gotten Dean to open up a little and actually talk instead of just saying 'No' but it didn't get Sam what he wanted. In fact, it made the whole thing worse.

"Sammy, don't you think I know how hard it is for you? It's hard for me, too, but I don't know what I can do about it. We just have to deal with it."

Then Dean had come up with a stupid idea.

"That's a stupid idea, Dean."

"No, Sam, just think about it. We're trying so hard not to think about fucking each other that it ends up being all we think about. Maybe if we let ourselves think about it, if we let ourselves remember how it was, talk about it even, maybe it won't have so much power over us. What do you think?"

"I think you're a jerk, Dean. It's not going to work."

"Bitch. You can just sit around feeling sorry for yourself if you want but I'm gonna try it."

So now they're right back to square one, where they'd been before the rain and the passion. Except now Sam has new memories to haunt him - about how good, how _damn_ good it still can be between them. And now he has Dean forcing those other memories down his throat.

Dean's thrown himself right into his idea, making comments about blow-jobs and Sam's muscles, remembering out loud some of the times they'd been together, describing parts to Sam in slow, sensuous detail and then Dean'll trail off, face flushed, quickly walking to the bathroom with a stiff hard-on leading the way, coming out a few minutes later relaxed, smiling easy, and hungry as a bear.

He never sees how Sam hasn't moved the whole time, sitting with head down in painful stony silence, brooding with unfulfilled desires and wishing his suffering would end. Dean doesn't see, or doesn't want to see, how much Sam needs.

Then, Sam quietly tries to coax Dean again into changing his mind about them, knowing what the answer will be before he even tries.

"No, Sam, no."

*

Dean's in the shower now, naked and soap-slippery in the steamy water, washing himself all over. If Sam closes his eyes, he can see every inch of Dean in his mind, every curve and crevice and _God, _he just wants to be in there, too, wants it with every fiber of his being, down deep where there's no reason, only gut-wrenching hunger.

With effort, Sam holds himself back. If he goes in there now, horny and frustrated and tries to make love to Dean, it won't be good for either of them. Dean will just get angry and have good reason to push him away.

Nope, Sam needs a plan.

He knows Dean. So what'll get Dean to break? Lately, he seems immune to the puppy dog eyes so that's not gonna work. Dean's also been bobbing and weaving, doing a great job of avoiding any serious conversations with Sam because he knows Sam can usually reach him like that so talking isn't the way to go either.

When he grabbed Sam that day in the rain, it was like Dean had been angry at Sam for just being there. How had Dean gotten worked up to that point? Then Sam remembered the spanking and the light dawned. Of course! He'd made it physical and Dean couldn't handle physical. It's easy enough for Dean to talk about them being together but what if Sam makes it physical again? If Dean wants temptation, maybe Sam should give it to him, up close and personal. The more Sam thinks about it, the more it makes sense and what the hell, it can't make things any worse than they are now.

He needs Dean on the edge, teetering on the line that he won't let himself cross, crazy and lusting and begging for more. He needs to get Dean to reach that point again, just like he'd been in the rain that day, hungry and violent, raw and passionate.

Then, when Sam has him there, maybe he can break Dean's strong will and Dean'll give in, change his mind about them and let them finally, _finally_ be together again. Maybe Dean will see that the only good thing they have left is each other. But Dean has to stop fighting against Sam and accept the truth, _damn it. _Accept it and not look back.

Sam stands up, walking to the bathroom door and trying the knob. It turns easily in his hand. Good, Dean forgot to lock it.

He pushes it open, casually calling out, "Hey, gotta take a leak", and walks over to the toilet to relieve himself.

Dean only grunts in response and Sam studies his brother's shadow through the opaque curtain. _Christ_, even his shadow is sexy.

Sam washes his hands, debating with himself furiously for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons of what he's going to do. Pushing away doubt, Sam shucks off his clothes, throwing them on top of Dean's as he pulls back the shower curtain.

"Hey!" Dean's hands are up in his soapy hair, bubbles streaming down his face, green eyes flashing annoyance at both the intrusion and the rush of cold air that hits his wet body, annoyed that is, until he sees Sam standing naked and beautiful in front of him and those eyes rake Sam up and down, face lighting up in pleasure at the sight before Dean remembers and his eyes shutter, realizing he's not supposed to look, not supposed to touch.

Dean utters what's expected, his commanding voice ringing out, tolerating no disobedience, "Sam! I told you we're not doing this anymore! Get out of here!"

_Jesus_, Sam loves that voice…makes him hot all over when he hears it.

Dean's eyes look away but not before Sam sees the depth of emotions that flash there and Sam glimpses the truth, the deep primal need that trembles, a desperate longing so vast and so huge that it steals Sam's breath away and all Sam can think is _My heart's right there, too…_

They need each other, as brothers _and_ lovers, just like they need to take in the next breath and a new determination comes over Sam, a _knowing_ deep in his gut, making him set his jaw firmly, a steely glint shining in his eyes.

"Well, you did leave the door open." Sam breathes, stepping in close to Dean and pulling the shower curtain back in place.

Dean huffs at him indignantly, "I didn't think I had to lock it to keep you out! I already told you how it's going to be! Whatever you think is gonna happen, it's not, so just stop right now!"

Sam smiles at him, "Who said I want anything to happen? Maybe I just want to help you wash your back – maybe get you to wash mine?"

"Sammy-" Dean says in a warning voice, giving him a frustrated look, quickly rinsing his hair and hurriedly swiping the soap out of his eyes so he can keep a watchful glare on his brother. Dean doesn't trust Sam not to touch him when his eyes are closed.

"Come on, relax. I'm not gonna bite you – yet." Sam lets a slow grin cross his face, dimples showing as he reaches out to take the soap off the ledge, rubbing it slowly and sensuously between his palms, making a good lather. "Let's get this nice and slippery…"

He steps closer, reaching out towards Dean, who jerks back, hitting the wall with a bang. There's nowhere else for Dean to go, Sam has him cornered and he flattens himself up against the tile, eyes wide with alarm. Below the fear lay something else, blistering in intensity, ravenous in need and it's that look that spurs Sam on.

Dean's throat works hard, swallowing once and then again before he manages to say hoarsely, "You need to leave now, Sam!"

"Shhh." Sam whispers, looming over Dean, pleading with his eyes for his brother to just _let_ him. "It's ok, Dean. I just want to wash you, that's all. I won't hurt you."

"Sam, please, man, just-." Dean's voice cracks slightly but he doesn't push him away.

"Come on, dude. You can resist me, right? You've been doing it all week, haven't you? Telling me about when we were together, making remarks, driving me crazy…I should at least get to do the same, don't you think?"

Dean holds his fists tight against his sides, standing stiffly, as far away from Sam as he can get, trying to carve himself a hole in the shower wall with his body, anything to get more space.

The flickers in Dean's eyes leap into flames as Sam moves even closer and Dean tilts back his head to look up at his brother, a tic in his cheek fluttering erratically from his firmly clenched jaw.

With gentle fingers, Sam washes Dean's neck, moving the soap gently around under his jaw and down to his collarbone, softly touching and Dean can't help but react, taking in a shuddering breath and tilting his head back further to give Sam free reign, his eyelids going half-mast, barely breathing as he holds himself clenched, rigid, almost like he's scared to relax and more scared to breath.

Sam spies the pulse in Dean's neck, throbbing furiously and has to fight not to bend his head and kiss it, to not swirl his tongue over it and feel it pound under his lips. He allows himself one touch, sweeping his fingertips over it lightly, feeling the life, the heart of his brother, strong and steady, and it's almost like Dean is simmering in his skin because it's hot and flushed under Sam's hands.

He lets his gaze slide back up to Dean's, tracing his face lovingly with his eyes, and it's all he can do not to nip that delicious earlobe, not to run his mouth over the sharp cut of cheek down to Dean's soft, full lips that even now tremble with emotion, with passion and Sam has to stop for a minute, breathing in deep pulls of air, fighting for control over the huge need that just rose up inside of him. _God, those lips._

Sam's fingers drift over Dean's shoulders, rolling the skin, scrubbing the flesh gently with his palms, letting the soap slide over Dean's tense muscles, slipping down to the biceps, flicking over the inner elbows and down the forearms to the hands.

"Nothing wrong with me just washing you, is there? Isn't that allowed?" Sam murmurs.

Dean can't speak, can't think because his nerve endings are on fire from Sam's nearness and gentle touch. Sam caresses Dean's fists, working at them until Dean loosens his grip and Sam intertwines his fingers with Dean's, sliding palm against palm until Dean's hands are loose and pliant in Sam's.

Sam lifts Dean's hands to his mouth, rubbing his lips softly over the knuckles, kissing lightly before raising Dean's arms up, holding his brother's hands against the wall and leaning in close, close enough to kiss, letting his mouth almost touch Dean's, hovering there, tickling and teasing Dean's lips with his closeness.

Dean swallows hard, pupils huge and dark and his lips part, warm and inviting. Moving of its own volition, Dean's body arches ever so slightly closer to Sam, imperceptibly asking for the kiss with his eyes and lips, begging with every nerve in his body but Sam pulls back, shaking his head playfully, and Dean gives a small disappointed sigh, whispering softly, "Fucking tease."

Sam catches both of Dean's wrists in one of his palms, and takes up the bar of soap with the other hand, rubbing over Dean's chest with it, circling over each nipple leisurely, using the tip of the soap to sweetly torment his brother.

He strokes down, over Dean's ribs and stomach, drawing whorls in the lather, swirling the bubbles around and down, working the soap sensuously through the wiry, kinky hair that lay beneath his belly button.

"See? That doesn't hurt, does it?" Sam breathes softly.

Dean's teeth catch his bottom lip and a small groan seeps out of him, his breathing growing loud and harsh and Sam allows himself a satisfied smile. Now he's getting somewhere. He moves closer to Dean and their chests brush against each other, both feeling the electricity spark between them at the contact and Sam holds on to his control by a ragged thread. _Jesus, he wants him so bad!_

Sam lets his gaze wander down to where his hand still circles, tickling gently over Dean's lower belly. He makes sure to keep his head close to Dean's, so close that his brother's lips are almost touching his cheek and then Sam raises his eyes slowly, letting his gaze wander up so he can watch Dean's face as Sam moves his hand lower. He strokes slowly, lightly, caressing the huge hard-on that's sprung up from Sam's ministrations.

Dean jumps at the touch like he's been zapped with live wires, his body trembling violently as he feels Sam's hand washing him, stroking him up and down and Dean gives a strangled gasp, his breath crushed underneath the pounding of his heart.

"S-Sam…" he manages finally and his hips buck upward towards his brother as Sam moves his hand down and under, rubbing the soap around Dean's balls and thighs in slow sensual circles, sliding around Dean's hips to rub his ass, working in his fingers, letting the soap slide in, brushing the sensitive skin and causing Dean to roll his hips in response.

"Sam, you gotta stop." Dean's voice is gravelly, low and pleading.

"But I haven't washed your back yet." Sam murmurs, moving his hand up to rub the soap lovingly over his brother's back muscles, deliberately slowing his fingers, stroking along Dean's ribs and down his spine, moving sensuously across the small of Dean's back, letting his fingers trail onto his ass cheeks and slipping in between again, just a flicker of movement, enough pressure to make Dean shiver and press back against Sam's touch.

Sam leans in close, next to Dean's mouth again, barely touching his lips to Dean's and smiles, a slow erotic one. He breathes into Dean's mouth and almost purrs the words, "There you go, all nice and clean."

The look on Dean's face is a mix of lust, passion, heat and disappointment. His eyes search Sam's for some clue as to what's going on.

Sam releases Dean's wrists and steps back, letting his eyes run lazily up and down Dean's naked body where his arousal is sticking straight up between them. Sam pushes down on his own erection and gestures casually toward Dean's, "You, uh, may want to take care of that soon. It looks kinda painful."

Sam almost laughs out loud at the flash of anger he receives from Dean's glittering eyes and he turns, pulling back the curtain and stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry himself off.

With a snap of material, the curtain is snatched back into place and Dean's harsh words carry over to him, "Son of a bitch! Yeah, you're real fucking funny, Sam!"

The sounds of Dean jerking off follow Sam out of the bathroom and Sam nods his head. That went better than he hoped.

Now, onto Phase two.

*


	6. Chapter 6

*

"Would you die for him?" the evil creature chatters at him, barely understandable, voice high and squeaky.

The thing swipes at Sam's neck with its sharp teeth, just missing the carotid artery that lay pulsing in Sam's throat. Its claws are twisted in Sam's hair, yanking his head back, exposing his flesh.

Sam's eyes lock onto Dean's, expressions flitting over his face, anger at being taken so easily, pain at the wounds he's already suffered at this thing's hands and rage at not being able to use his powers against this monster. He shoots a silent question at Dean. _Any ideas?_

Dean shakes his head slightly, motioning with his eyes for Sam to be still and not fight against the creature.

"Would you die for him?" the question comes again.

Dean doesn't hesitate, "Of course."

*

When Dean wakes up that morning, it's to the sight of Sam jerking off in the next bed. Sam's kicked off his blankets, shucked off his pajama pants and shorts, and there he is, in all his glory, moving his hand up and down, gasping, moaning, pulling on his dick like it's his lifeline to a sinking ship.

It isn't like Dean's never seen Sam touch himself before but usually it's when they're both involved, touching each other in the throes of passion and well on their way to being satisfied. But this…

Well, this just isn't right.

In fact, it's downright indecent.

Sam should be in the bathroom or something, not doing it right in front of Dean.

What makes it worse is that Sam knows Dean's watching. He catches Dean's eyes, studying his face impassively before Sam leans his head back against the pillow, eyelids drifting closed, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he strokes.

*

Dean had woken up when he heard Sam moaning like he was having a nightmare or something. He starts to call out to Sam to 'rise and shine' when he realizes what Sam is doing.

Before Dean can avert his eyes, he's caught up in the view, mouth hanging open, watching Sam work his morning erection with a slow, sensual grip, and Dean can no sooner look away then stop breathing.

*

Now, Dean's heart starts racing in his chest, tingles working their way up into his belly as he rubs his lips with a shaky hand, never taking his eyes off his brother.

Everything is close up and crystal clear, in minute detail, like he's watching a big screen TV, and every twitch, every goose bump that runs over Sam's body becomes etched into Dean's mind. Sam's palm moves up and down, thumb circling the little slit on top with each upward movement, swirling through the glistening droplets that form there, the skin red and hot as Sam drags it forward and back.

He sees Sam's hip muscles tighten and relax as his ass clenches upward with each pull of flesh, the thighs flexing with growing tension, the flat stomach quivering with anticipation, with growing fire.

Shit, even Sam's toes are curling.

Dean realizes he can't breathe very well because his chest has tightened up into knots and his hands grip the blanket tight as he stares, licking his lips at the sight before him. Looking at those long fingers pull and tug makes Dean instantly aroused, his underwear tight against his growing dick and he takes in a ragged breath as he rubs over his own erection gently.

_Christ,_ he wants so much to put his mouth where Sammy's hands are right now, to taste Sam again, that sweet tang of him, sweat and soap, and that flavor all Sam's own, honeyed and tart at the same time, potent and heady, and Dean is suddenly so hungry for that taste that he can't think straight.

Dean licks his lips again.

Sam is starting to move his hand faster now, his breath huffing out of his chest in short bursts, his hips straining up as he moves closer and closer to the edge. Dean can't move, can't blink and his fingers grip down on the mattress so tight his knuckles turn white as he hangs on every movement, every gasp his brother utters.

Jesus, could Sam be any more beautiful?

His hand is going whip-quick now, it's almost a blur and Sam's starting to groan out loud, hips bucking up into his hand, head thrown back with pleasure as he goes higher, higher and he's not breathing, holding his body rigid, tense as his hips rise up one last time. Sam gives a shuddering breath over his climax, shooting pearly white liquid all over his hand and belly, continuing to stroke for a few seconds to get out the last few pulses before his body falls back onto the bed, relaxing, panting harshly.

Suddenly Dean's standing next to Sam with no memory of moving out of his bed and he's kneeling down, touching the hand that's still gripping Sam's shaft, moving his fingers over his brother's, feeling the stickiness with fascination and hunger.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice is low, husky and warm, "I need –"

What does he need? What should he say? That he misses Sam like crazy and he can't handle life without him? That Dean was wrong and he wants to be with Sam so badly he can't stand it? That he wants to love on Sam not only this morning but every morning and every night?

Sam sits up and bends his head, moving his mouth next to Dean's ear with a sweet smile. Dean smiles back at him expectantly.

"You need to go back to your own bed, Dean. We aren't doing this anymore, remember? We can look but we can't touch, right?"

And Sam moves Dean's hand off him, wiping himself off with the sheet and lifting his ass to pull back up his underwear and pjs. He swings his long legs past Dean and stands up, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind him with a slam of finality.

Dean stays where he is, feeling like he just got slapped in the face, horny and hot and sad and angry all at once and he swipes at the sudden moisture in his eyes, clearing his throat of the fresh knot that's risen up in it, now knowing how Sam felt that day he came out of the shower and saw Dean jerking off.

It must have almost ripped Sam's heart out to turn him away because Dean knows how much Sam wants him back in his bed, against his skin. He takes in a shaky breath and stands up, going to the bathroom door and knocking quietly.

"Sam?" he whispers, rubbing his hand on the door, caressing it like he would Sam if he could, "I miss you so much. You have to know that. It's so hard…it kills me that we can't be together."

Sam opens the door and stares at him sadly.

Dean reaches out to cup his brother's face, stroking his warm skin gently and his heart swells up with love, with ache as Sam leans into his hand, closing his eyes to the touch and bringing his own hand up to cover Dean's, pressing him closer.

"Sam…", Dean moves closer, his other hand going behind Sam's neck, urging him lower and Sam opens his eyes to stare into Dean's and then down at Dean's lips, coming up to meet his-

The shrill ring of Dean's cell phone makes them both jump, breaking the tension of the moment and they pull back from each other, Dean with regret and Sam looking hurt and confused.

Dean grabs his phone, "Yeah?"

He scowls into the phone, "Billy? Hey, how are-? What? When? At the reservation? No, it's at least a five hour drive. Ok, we're on our way."

*

Dean lets Sam drive and the Impala speeds through the morning sun while Dean tells Sam what's up.

"Billy Navarro, you remember him?"

"Wait, from that old Chumash tribe? The guy that set us up with the shaman who made that spirit oil for us?"

"Yeah, that's him. We owe him a favor because of that, the shaman never makes that oil for anyone except his own tribe. Anyway, there's an evil spirit on the loose that's attacking tribal members."

"What kind of spirit?"

"It's called the Nunashish. It's sneaking up on warriors in the night and killing them to take their souls back to the Underworld. Billy said something about the balance of the universe being out of whack and this thing is out, on the reservation, waiting till nightfall to attack again. They need our help to get rid of it and send it back downstairs."

"Is it a demon?" Sam asked carefully.

"Billy didn't say, only that it was an evil spirit. Why, you wanna use your Vulcan mind-meld on it?"

"Dean-"

"No, Sam! We're gonna use good old-fashioned hunting skills, ok? None of your psychic shit even if it is a demon."

Sam doesn't say anymore, just puts the pedal to the floor, urging the car forward faster and with a roar of engine, Baby obliges.

*

Billy greets them both with hugs and slaps on the back, introducing them to the Chumash chief and ceremonial leader.

He gestures to the shaman, "You remember the Ancient One?"

Sam and Dean both nod. This was the man who made the spirit oil for them. Dean meets Sam's eyes and it's written all over his face--the memory of their night spent with that incredible oil.

Dean clears his throat, "Yeah, that spirit oil was something else. Made me sick as a dog and Sam didn't feel too good either."

Billy frowns, "What do you mean?"

"Sam used it to give me a massage and it gave me a fever for three days."

Sam pipes up, "Yeah and it made me almost hurt a girl while we were…uh, well…" and Sam trails off, blushing, not knowing what he should say in front of the tribal elders.

A smile slashes across Billy's face, "Man, that oil can't change your soul."

Dean narrows his eyes, "What's that mean?"

The Chumashian shrugs, "The desire, the lust, must already exist in the soul for the spirit oil to bring it to life. If it made you angry at this woman, you were already angry. If you had truly longed for her in your heart, it would have turned you into the most passionate lover she had ever experienced. It cannot change what already lives in the deepest parts of you."

Stunned, Dean looks at Sam who stares back with a shell-shocked expression. If that was true, they had loved each other and wanted each other all along and can no longer blame the spirit oil for any of it.

Sam stutters, "I can't-" and closes his mouth, looking helplessly into Dean's eyes.

"Later. We'll deal with that later." Dean replies, "Right now, we have work to do. Billy, tell us about this spirit."

Billy nods, "The Chumash believe there are three Worlds in the universe. We humans live in the Middle World. The Upper World contains Sky People, like the Sun and the Moon. The third level, the Lower World, houses creatures from the underworld that can cross over into our world if the balance of good and evil are not aligned. One of these creatures is called the Nunashish, an evil spirit who takes the lives of the living back to the underworld with it. Our ceremonies usually maintain the balance and keep the Nunashish caged but…"

The chief speaks, "We don't know what went wrong. Our rites have worked for years and the Nunashish have not been freed. The Sky People are not in alignment if the Lower World is out of balance. It is necessary for all things to be as they should."

Sam frowns, deep in thought, "When was the last ceremony held?"

Billy replies, "The Earth Ceremony, held last week. We had the annual Tree Blessing with the traditional feast but this year, it did not rain so the tree was not cleansed as it should be."

"Is that important, that it didn't rain?" Dean asks.

The ceremonial leader speaks, "The cleansing is an important part of the ritual and we offered our prayers for rain but we were not blessed this year as we have been in years past. That may have been why the Sky People were displeased and allowed the Nunashish to come forth."

"Billy, I know this is probably a ridiculous question but is there wireless internet on the reservation?" Sam asks without hope.

"Sure, we have wifi down at the Clan Café. You need to use a computer?"

Sam nods, "Yeah, I want to do a little research before dark. I remember hearing something about another legend and I want to make sure I have the facts right. Dean, we may need to hit Bobby up for some information."

"Lead the way, Billy." Dean motions with his hand as they single-file to the Impala.

*

That night, by the light of a corn moon, the Winchesters lie in wait, watching over the warriors as they sleep, all crowded together for safety's sake into the Gathering Hall, a long building in the center of the reservation, cots and makeshift beds piled along the floor, snoring bodies everywhere.

Midnight's come and gone and Dean's worrying about Sam and his powers, hoping that the evil spirit doesn't show so that Sam won't be forced to use them. Even though Dean told Sam not to use his special skills, Dean knows that if Sam feels cornered and needs to protect Dean or himself, he'll use them without thought, without doubt.

And that scares Dean more than any evil spirit can.

He looks at Sam in the dark, only to find Sam already staring at him, soft eyes taking in his worry, his fear.

"I'll try not to." Sam murmurs, as if he can sense Dean's thoughts.

Dean narrows his eyes, "Try not to what?" he asks, pretending he doesn't know what Sam's talking about.

"My powers. I'll really try not to use them, Dean, 'cause I know you're scared for me."

"Sam-" Dean begins and Sam is suddenly yanked backwards and up, hanging in the air like he's a rag doll, feet off the ground, suspended by nothing, and Sam is twisting, scrambling, trying to get hold of who ever has him from behind.

Dean is on his feet in an instant, rushing forwards and hitting into an invisible wall with an audible _Bang_, momentum throwing him backwards onto his ass.

Sam's head is forced back and Dean sees what's got him.

A creature with wild dark hair, raging fire eyes and a mouthful of teeth like he's never seen before, huge, way taller than Sam and holding his lanky brother up with one hand like he weighs nothing. The spirit thrusts his claws into Sam's back, earning a scream of pain and Dean sees blood seep into Sam's shirt.

"Sam!" Dean jumps up, rushing forward again, watching Sam close his eyes and try to focus his power on the Nunashish but it has no effect. It's not a demon so Sam can't hurt it and his eyes look helplessly back at Dean.

"Let him go, you son of a bitch!" Dean demands, splashing holy water and herbs into the Nunashish's face and the thing hisses, tilting its head and examining Dean like he's an annoying insect.

A high pitched voice comes out of the spirit, like a recording going in fast forward, and Dean struggles to understand what it's saying.

"A soul for a soul. The cave must be fed. A life for a life. Fair trade."

"What do you mean? I don't understand!" Dean shouts at it.

"Will you die for him?"

*

The thump of drums vibrate in the night and soft chanting, slow and rhythmic, reaches Dean's ears just as he vows what he always has, that he would die for Sam in a heart beat.

Sam starts to chant along, having memorized the verses earlier and Dean joins in, voices growing louder and stronger with each repetition. The other warriors, awakened now with the commotion, have come outside, circling around the creature, chanting as one voice as the drum beats grow louder.

Suddenly, both drum beats and chanting stop. A tense silence fills the air, heavy and expectant. Something is coming.

Soon a growling noise pierces the air and a giant black dog, a guardian, comes out of the night sky, teeth bared, stiff-legged, and stalks up to the evil entity still holding onto Sam. With a cry of rage, the creature throws Sam to one side and Dean hurries over to him, checking over his wounds with a practiced eye before dragging him to a safe distance.

The dog pounces onto the Nunashish with a snarl and a snap of teeth and both spirits twirl upward, biting and tearing at each other, growling and screaming, until they disintegrate into a hazy mist of dust, spread back out into the night sky and thunder rolls ominously around, lightening spearing the darkness outside.

With a whispered sigh, soft patters of rain begin to fall and the cleansing of the Middle World begins.

*

Sam's wounds have been patched up by the shaman and he stands with Dean in the doorway of the hall, watching the rain, talking with Billy and the chief.

Billy says admiringly to Sam, "How did you know about the black dog?"

Sam replies, "I remembered reading something about the evil spirit of the black dog being able to be harnessed in order to fight another evil spirit. I just had to look it up to be sure and once I found it, Bobby supplied the incantation to hold it and get it to do our bidding. After that, it was just a waiting game until the Nunashish showed up. I'm just glad it worked."

The chief puts out his hand, catching drops of water in his palm and says, "You have saved our people, Winchester brothers. Your debt to us is paid in full. Thank you."

Dean smiles and claps Sam on the shoulder gently, "All in a day's work, right, Sammy?"

*

When they arrive at the motel, Dean comes around to help Sam out of the car.

"I'm fine, dude." Sam says, holding back a groan. It hurts more than he wants to admit.

"Humor me." Dean says, looping an arm underneath Sam's shoulder and around his waist, giving him extra support in case he needs it. Together they limp into the room.

Dean helps Sam to a chair and turns on a light. Shadows flicker across his brother's face and Dean stares at Sam with pain in his eyes.

"What?" Sam says, looking at him in concern.

"Do you-do you want to wash up or anything? You should probably get some rest."

"Yeah, I'll just brush my teeth, maybe sponge off."

"You want some help?" Dean asks quietly.

"No, Dean. I can do it." Sam studies his face, "You ok?"

"Not sure yet." Dean murmurs and moves to help Sam up and to the bathroom. After a few minutes, Sam comes out, making his way to the bed next to the wall.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Sammy-"

Sam stops near the bed but doesn't turn around.

"Sleep in my bed tonight."

Sam's shoulders relax and Dean only just realizes how tense he must have been holding himself. He still doesn't turn to face Dean, though but says haltingly to the wall in front of him, "No. Not unless it's gonna be every night from now on."

"Sam." Dean's voice is hoarse with unspoken emotion.

"Dean, that's it. It's either for good or not at all." Dean hears the tears in Sam's thick voice and feels his own eyes start to smart with them.

Dean struggles to speak but can't find the words, can't tell Sam how scared he was tonight, that seeing that creature hurting him was almost too much for Dean to bear and that he loves Sam, loves him more than life and Dean doesn't want to be without him any more. He needs-

Sam gives a small sob and starts to climb into bed.

Before he knows what he's going to do, Dean's reaching out, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him around to face him, reaching for his face, both hands sliding up, fingers around Sam's ears and Dean pulls him down, finding Sam's mouth with a grateful sigh. He slowly opens Sam up, sliding his tongue in for a taste of the sweetness there, moaning low in his throat with satisfaction, with a growing need and Sam answers it with his own need, wide open and vulnerable, and all Dean has to do is take it.

Sam breaks the kiss, putting his forehead on Dean's, gasping out, "Dean-"

And Dean pulls his brother's mouth back to his, whispering against Sam's lips, "I tried to be strong, Sam but I can't do it anymore. I'm weak…so fucking weak and I need you with me, man, just wanna touch you and taste you, and wake up with you in the morning, Sammy. Please…"

"For how long, Dean?" Sam starts to pull away and Dean grabs him, holding him fiercely, murmuring the words before he captures Sam's mouth again for another soul-shaking kiss.

"For always, Sam…for always…"

*

Not the end yet :)

*

**A/N:** Ok, I took a little poetic license with the black dog because while it is a guardian, it's actually a guardian for the Chumash's sacred sites, at least according to lore (one of Sam's favorite words). Since the Chumash would have known how to summon their own guardian to protect themselves, I made the black dog be just a general guardian that only the Winchesters could find out about. Also, if anything is inaccurate please forgive me. I tried :D

Also, to anin2, I would love to respond to your review since you asked me a question but you don't have responses enabled. So, here's the next update :) and thanks for letting me know you like my story. I appreciate it!


	7. Chapter 7

*

Dean holds him tight, won't let him go, hasn't for the past few minutes, just keeps hugging him close, caressing his hair, murmuring in his ear, not words so much as soothing sounds, to lull and rest the heart.

He pulls back and looks in Sam's eyes, "You know I'm gonna end up hurting you again?"

Sam shrugs, "I'll take my chances."

"You're a glutton for punishment, Sam."

"Um, yeah, thought we already established that." And Sam gives his brother an impish grin.

"You know what I meant, dude! Come on, let's get you in bed." Dean mutters, giving Sam a chaste kiss before urging him towards the blankets and soft pillows.

Sam stops him, "Wait, what do you mean? Aren't we going to-?"

"You're hurt, Sammy. I thought we'd wait until you at least stop actively bleeding, you know? Thought we could just lay together, hold each other and not do anything too…strenuous." Dean shucks off his clothes.

"Fuck that, Dean. We've waited long enough!"

"Sam, it can wait one more day until you're better. Come on, into bed. I'm just gonna jump in the shower and be right back. Keep my spot warm."

Sam lies down, hating to admit the bed does feel really good 'cause he's exhausted and his side hurts like hell. Shit, he shoulda been able to take out that spirit before anybody, including him, got hurt. He's getting sloppy…all this crap with Dean's been taking up his brain cells and his concentration's been off, making him careless.

He snuggles into the blankets and shakes his head in wonder. Is Dean serious? There's no _way_ Sam's gonna give him a chance to change his mind again. Nope, Dean's ass, and every other part of him, is Sam's just as soon as Dean gets back in bed. It's been too long since he loved on his brother and he's not waiting one second longer. Drowsy now, Sam's warm and cozy, and his eyes need to close just for a second but he'll wake up once Dean comes to bed. He can rest until then.

*

Sam jolts awake when an arm flops across his waist and a warm flush spreads through him as he remembers, rubbing Dean's forearm lovingly as he glances at the clock. Shit, he's been asleep for hours! All that wasted time he could have been exploring Dean's hot body! Well, wait time is over, Sam decides, flipping on the nearest lamp to a dim glow. Dean can sleep anytime.

Being careful not to wake his brother just yet, Sam slides his body around until he's facing Dean, gazing at the handsome profile with a healthy lust. That beautiful face, sculptured from the shadows cast by the lamplight, is relaxed and peaceful in sleep, the sensuous lips parted with a snore so low it's almost a whisper. Dean's bare shoulder, golden in the light, beckons for a kiss and the gentle curve of skin, sliding down to his hip tantalizes Sam with images of the wonders below. _So tempting…_

Sam can't resist, reaching out to trace the slope of warm flesh with a light fingertip, shoulder to ribs to the dip of waist and up the gentle rise of hip…_mmm, that's nice_. He pushes the blanket lower down Dean's thigh, noting with regret the cotton shorts that cover his brother's bottom – no problem, those will be gone soon enough.

Sam watches Dean's muscles ripple under the skin, the barest shudder following the wake of Sam's caress. Dean's arm still lies across his waist so he strokes along the tender inner bicep and inside elbow, tickling along the forearm to flutter over Dean's wrist, causing goose bumps to rise up and Sam rubs them away gently.

The expressions that float across Dean's face, ebbing and flowing with each caress, delight Sam and as he watches, Dean's mouth closes, lips pouting like he's sucking on a sour candy. It's a delicious movement Sam's never seen Dean do before, even though he's watched him sleep hundreds of times. Sam catches his lip in his teeth, it looks like Dean's trying to kiss something and it's too much, too good for Sam to resist.

He moves closer to Dean, carefully leaning over him so as not to wake him, bending his head to kiss those perfect lips, licking across them with his tongue, tasting his brother's familiar flavor with a sigh of contentment. Dean moans softly and the sound gets in Sam's head, snaking through his gut with a lit match, igniting deep fires that roar through his balls, tumbling down the wall of Sam's resolve, overwhelming him with an icy-hot desire that rips through him, engulfing him and he doesn't care that Dean's asleep or that it's the middle of the night.

Truth be told, he doesn't give a rat's ass about anything other than fucking Dean silly right now.

Before he knows it, Sam's pushed Dean over onto his back, scooting on top of his brother so they're nipple to nipple, cock on cock and his weight crushes Dean to the mattress, pinning him so Sam can _finally_ have him, as much, as long as he wants and Sam settles in for the long-awaited feast, the feast of Dean.

Confused green eyes pop open to stare at him and he hears a bewildered "Sam-" wheeze out from Dean's chest, breath choked off by the sudden weight on him.

Sam sucks up the rest of Dean's words, battening down on his brother's mouth, taking those soft, sexy lips for his own, laying claim, nudging and urging until Dean opens up, access granted and Sam dives in, tongue to tongue, sparks of electricity shooting into his head and down his spine, head swooning and boiling over. The fucking _taste_ of Dean, _Jesus_, it's too much, and Sam's hungry, starving for more, and he needs it, needs it like he needs to breathe.

He pushes into Dean, searching for the core, the essence of that incredible flavor, needing more, more, and he opens Dean up wider, not stopping until his brother starts fighting back, desperate for air.

Dean breaks away, shoving up against Sam's shoulders with trembling hands, gasping for breath with lungs burning in his chest, "Sam, whoa, wait a sec-"

Sam stares down at him, eyes full of apology, shaking his head, "I…can't."

He shakes off Dean's hands, grappling onto Dean's mouth again, kissing hot and deep until he's finally satiated, flicking one last lick across Dean's lips before releasing him, drawing a deep sigh from his brother. Sam kisses along Dean's jaw, mumbling gratefully against the feel of warm skin, flesh that he's finally allowed to touch, to taste and he bites gently at Dean's earlobe, nuzzling the soft skin behind the ear.

He sucks in a deep pull of air, wuffling against Dean's neck, the smell of his brother, so familiar, so heady, that it makes Sam weak in the knees. The scent of Dean's warm skin comforts Sam and he lets himself rest, feeling a moment of pure joy before he's nipping and licking his way down Dean's neck, lips purring against the hollow at the base of his throat. Sam draws the flesh in between his teeth, sucking gently, making small marks on the skin and earning a hum of pleasure from Dean, who leans back his head to give Sam better access.

Sam's hands work along Dean's body, tickling lightly over the ribs down to his narrow waist and over jutting hipbones, caressing his hand along Dean's thigh, circling around the growing bulge under Dean's shorts. He lets one hand float across Dean's erection lightly, whispering past with barely a touch, and waiting until the second sweep to grip Dean full-on, squeezing the hard heat of him, hearing Dean's groans fill the room as Sam tightens his palm against him.

"Sammy…slow down…" Dean gasps out.

But Sam's having none of that, moving off Dean to yank his underwear down in a smooth, swift movement, tossing them onto the floor and staring with greedy eyes at his brother's naked body splayed before him. He sighs with satisfaction at the sight, the dim light dancing on the long, lean muscles, the skin so hot, so firm and beautiful that Sam can't stop touching it. Slow, sensuous flutters from Sam's fingers make Dean's muscles twitch with jumping nerves, Sam's palms caressing Dean from his toes to his hips. He tickles along Dean's hipbone, fingers drumming out a beat going down, down to where the taut erection bumps eagerly against his hand. Sam slides a hot palm up onto Dean's chest, thumbing a nipple just as he fists Dean's hard dick, dragging the skin up and down, tightening his grip as he moves and Dean's hips jerk in reaction.

"Holy sh-!" Dean grinds out, breath hitching against the words as he grabs at the sheet under him, gripping the cloth tight and bucking up against Sam's hand, his harsh panting loud in the air.

Sam can't wait, he can't wait…He needs the taste of Dean on his tongue. He bends his head, licking the tip of Dean's cock gently, savoring the tang of it, letting the flavor sink in deep and he closes his eyes, tears pricking at his eyelids.

_Home, finally home_.

All the denying, all the hurting is over, thank Christ, and now Sam can have Dean for always and he's so fucking grateful for this precious time with his brother that he's going to enjoy each and every second of it.

He licks his way, slow and deliberate, around the tip of Dean's dick, lapping at the tasty drops that ooze from the tiny slit, rewarded by the whimpers and moans breathing out of his brother and the sweet sway of Dean's hips that roll under his mouth.

Sam's lips work down Dean's hard length, the skin tightening as he hums against the sensitive flesh, the vibrations raising Dean's ass up, clenching the muscles tight as he strains towards Sam's mouth. Dean's fists twist the sheet into sweaty balls of fabric and he bites his lower lip, moans of pleasure purring from his throat as he opens his legs wider to give Sam better access.

Dean's hand is caressing his head now, blunt fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, urging Sam down, the other hand coming up to cup his face, the pad of Dean's thumb circling the cheekbone before sliding back to Sam's neck, pulling him forward.

"Use your mouth, Sam_, Christ_, just use your mouth…" Dean begs in a whisper, staring at him with half-closed eyes, hot passion flaring in the green depths.

When Sam pulls his mouth away and gives a slow smile, Dean rocks his pelvis up, bumping his cock up against Sam's lips, his voice low and hoarse with desire, "Sammy, please…just, come _on_-"

Sam opens up for Dean, taking him in nice and slow, sliding down the hot length of him, tongue swirling against the sensitive underside, and the sounds Dean makes, weak sobs of ecstasy, thrill Sam right down to his balls, growing his own erection into a huge and uncomfortable bulge pressing into the mattress. He shifts to the side, trying to lessen the pain of it while he pleasures Dean first.

Sam slows, lazily sliding back up and down, wanting to prolong Dean's bliss but now it's Dean who can't wait, hands urgent, gripping, pulling Sam's head back, thrusting up fast and hard with his hips, tugging Sam back down, holding him in place while Sam's tongue flicks and slithers over his skin.

Dean's fingers tighten in Sam's hair, wrenching back his head as he thrusts forward fast and Sam's tongue can't get enough, sucking up the incredible taste of Dean, a mix of sweet jasmine in the rain and something deep, woodsy, earthy. It tantalizes Sam's senses and his own erection pulses in reaction, aching to be satisfied.

Dean pants faster, his hips jerking forward as Sammy brings him there, higher, higher and he's shoving into Sam's mouth, fierce and rough, yanking Sam's head down, thrusting his dick up to meet it, not giving Sam a chance to breathe or to open up his throat and Sam gags a little, finally just going limp, letting Dean have control, cupping his mouth around Dean's dick, enjoying the firm hands that rip at him, the hard fucking of his mouth, feral Dean, all violence and barely contained.

_This_ is what Sam wants from his brother.

Sam slides hands under Dean's ass, spreading him wide and pushing in a finger, circling it roughly, deep and hard, and Dean grunts low in his throat, guttural moans that escape his clenched teeth and Sam works in another finger and that's it-

Dean bucks up, once and again, his body going rigid, a spasm rocking through him and then he huffs out all of his breath in a rush, eyes squeezed up tight as he tumbles over the edge, erupting into Sam's eager mouth, dick pulsing out each spurt. Sam sucks and swallows, moaning at the delicious tang, swallowing every drop until Dean's done and crashed back on the bed, gasping helplessly on the waves still rocking him..

Sam lays his head on Dean's hip and stares up at his brother, watching him recover, marveling at how beautiful, how perfect Dean is in the lamplight. He feels like he could watch Dean forever.

Unfortunately, his dick doesn't feel the same way and it's humming now between his legs, rock hard and angry at having been ignored for so long. Sam strokes himself up and down, needing his brother's attention and opens his mouth to ask for it when Dean runs a shaky hand over his face and looks down at Sam, his voice deep and commanding. "Sam, get up here!"

Sam obeys without thought, curling up next to his brother, caressing Dean's belly as Sam snakes an arm across him, "Dean-"

Dean cuts him off, scowling, scolding, "Damn it, Sam, I told you we were gonna wait till tomorrow, until you were better!"

"I couldn't wait." Sam shrugs, staring into Dean's eyes without regret, a small smile on his mouth.

Dean narrows his eyes, "Are you ok? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, Dean, I'm fine."

"Good, cause now I'm gonna kick your ass. You need to listen to me and do what I say."

"Or what?" Sam challenges, eyes gleaming at the possibilities.

Dean rolls to face him, suddenly close, too close and his hands are sliding under and around, circling Sam's hips, fingers grabbing Sam's ass and yanking him forward, grinding their hips together, squeezing roughly, and pulling Sam over so he's lying on top of Dean's length. Sam's erection is between them, huge and heavy and he squirms on it as Dean holds him in place.

Dean's hard hand smacks his backside sharply, twice on each side, and his lips are against Sam's ear, breath tickling the hairs above and giving Sam a shiver down his spine, "Or you get turned over my knee, Sammy and I will redden this ass for you properly. You disobey me again and you _will_ get punished. Understood?"

Sam's belly flares at this, liquid fire shooting down to his balls and back up his spine, his skin hot and cold all at once, the image Dean's words invoke almost enough to make him explode right there and Sam suddenly can't breathe very well, "Y-yes."

Dean continues in a silky voice, "And after your ass is raw and sore and you're begging me to stop, you'll get some of this…" And Dean works two fingers inside of Sam's ass, making Sam inhale sharply at the intrusion.

Dean slides his other hand between them, rubbing Sam's dick into his own, and Sam bites his lip against the pounding of his heart, hips jerking forward, nerves tingling, "And then, of course, there's this…"

"Dean-" Before Sam can get the words out, Dean's captured his mouth, kissing him passionately, and what little breath Sam has left is swept away, resistance sucked out of him by Dean's expert tongue. He nips and licks, tasting every corner of Sam's sweet mouth until Sam is limp and trembling, ready to do anything Dean asks him to.

When Dean finally breaks the kiss, Sam is pliant and breathless, horny and ready. He moves off Dean to give Dean better access to his dick and Dean takes full advantage, wrapping his palm around Sam's long, hard, shaft and jerking him up and down, flicking his wrist back and forth. Dean's fingers, still inside Sam's ass, thrust in and out and Sam grinds back on them, a low moan escaping from him and _Jesus, that feels so fucking good_!

Dean kisses him again, staying against his mouth while Sam pants into him, and Sam's hips don't know whether to grind forward or back so he balances in the sweet limbo in between, hands planted on the bed, legs deliciously spread wide as Dean works him front and back.

With a smooth move, Dean flips Sam onto his back and still working Sam's dick, Dean looks into his eyes, bending to steal a kiss, pulling out on Sam's lower lip with his strong, white teeth, giving a growl of passion before he asks hoarsely, "Sammy…want my mouth or -?"

"Your ass…now." Sam breathes against Dean's lips and coherent thought flies out the window as Dean licks across Sam's nipple with a sensuous tongue, the tip twirling saliva around the hard nub before his teeth bite down hard, and Sam's back arches up into Dean's mouth even as he gasps out, "Ow! Son of a bitch, that hurts!"

Dean chuckles against his skin, "Come on, Sammy. You love it and you know it."

Sam stares down at him, eyes hot and passionate, and he licks his lips before giving a grin, "Only from you, man…only from you…"

Sam grabs Dean's shoulders and pulls, surprising Dean with the sudden twist of movement and Dean's now flat on his back, staring up at Sam with a devilish grin, "Nice reflexes, Sammy."

"You like that, huh? I got something else you'll like even better." Sam leers at him suggestively.

Dean's eyes turn hot, passionate and Sam's gripped by a sudden urgency, a frantic need to be inside of Dean, to be consumed by Dean and he rolls off, thinking furiously where he last saw the lube, _shit_, it was so long ago they used it and he's just going to use spit if he has to 'cause he is so not stopping now…

Dean hauls him back with a hand on his arm, nudging the tube into his palm.

At Sam's questioning look, Dean shrugs and gives a shy smile "Had it under the pillow for first thing in the morning-"

Sam cuts off his words with a passionate kiss that rocks them both with the intensity, with the need of it and he finds Dean in there, grasping and wanting just like he is, and both suck and taste, tongues sliding against each other like satin ribbons, soft and fluttering, swaying and bending with emotions until they're better, they're filled up and they can part, breathe on their own again.

They stare into each other's eyes, panting into the air between them, breath hot and heavy and Sam's hands work the lube, smearing it onto himself and inside of Dean with trembling fingers, spreading Dean's legs wide, his movements jerky with haste.

Sam positions himself, pulling Dean's ass open and nudges in, just the tip of his dick, slow and easy. Their eyes never waver from each other as he pushes further, opening up Dean's small hole, watching pain flicker over his brother's face, seeing hot lust rise up in Dean's eyes as Sam pulls out and pushes in again and again, deeper each time.

Sam's hips rock forward and back, pulling Dean with him, straining against Dean's tightness, driving forward until he's in, stuffed into warmth, into a fierce grip that won't release, buried deep and Dean's gasping, trying to relax against the fullness of the thick cock that's burning into him.

The muscles clench and tremble and Dean breathes through it, body quivering with effort and Sam waits, their gaze still locked, barely blinking so as not to lose sight of each other and Dean finally nods, body relaxing down.

Sam pulls back slowly until his dick is almost out and slides back in with a jerk, watching Dean's face, making sure he's ok, seeing pain-pleasure flash in his eyes. Sam spears in deep and sharp, grinds into the wall he hits against and rucks back out. Again and again, he pulls and pushes, each time with more force, pleasure rolling through them in waves until they're grunting and growling at each other and the only other sounds in the room are the wet _slip-slap_ of flesh against flesh.

Sam shoves and bucks, yanking down on Dean's hips as he crashes forward, skewering, pounding, feeling the heat in his balls spreading out, ass clenching against the fire that climbs in his belly and Dean gasps out, "Come for me, Sammy-"

And he does, obeying Dean as he's supposed to, shooting his load into Dean's ass while staring deep into those beautiful green eyes, fucking into him with each rocking spasm, body shaking with the freaking _power_ of it and he collapses, shaking and panting, into Dean's waiting arms.

*

They lay quietly, enjoying the warmth of each other, murmuring softly as they touch and kiss, the afterglow of being together making them giddy. Sam pushes against Dean as Dean steals the covers, leaving Sam's body naked in the cool night air and this leads to a mini wrestling session, each trying to keep the blankets from the other, until they fall against each other, laughing and hugging.

The ringing of Dean's phone penetrates their snickering and Dean picks it up, clearing his throat when he doesn't recognize the number, "Yeah?"

Dean's body tenses and he sits up, pulling away from Sam, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. His voice softening, he murmurs, "Hey! What's up?"

Sam watches the different expressions drift across Dean's face and he's overtaken with a sense of foreboding that he can't shake. Whoever's on the other end of that phone is going to change their lives and Sam's pretty sure he's not going to like it.

Dean is silent, listening as the voice drones on the other end. Finally, he asks, "What? I- I don't think that's going to work."

Again the voice chatters and Dean replies, "I really don't think it's a good idea."

Drone, drone.

"Are you sure?" Dean asks in a sick voice, listens and replies, "We're in Santa Barbara. We just got done helping out an Indian tribe based here. Where are you? Ok, I guess we'll wait for you. Call me when you get in. What? Yeah, you, too. Bye."

Dean hangs up and looks down at his hands, gripping the phone tightly, before taking in a deep breath and flicking his eyes to Sam's, skittering away quickly.

"Dean…" Sam feels breathless and queasy, "Who-who was that?"

Dean clears his throat and pulls at his nose, snuffling and looking anywhere but at Sam, nervously moving around on the bed, thumb worrying over his cell phone before realizing what he's doing and putting it down with a jerk.

"Dean? You ok?" Sam asks carefully, scared of what's coming but needing to know.

He puts a hand on Dean's back, rubbing gently, feeling the tensely held muscles, the rigid spine and Sam moves his palm gently, trying to caress calm into Dean, to fix whatever bad's working through him and Dean rolls his shoulder like he's trying to shuck off Sam's touch.

Dean shakes his head, "Sammy…" and he trails off, swallowing hard, his eyes catching hold of Sam's again before jerking away, unable to look at Sam for longer than a second.

"Dean, for Christ's sake, what is it? You're scaring the crap out of me, man!" Sam slaps his hand on the mattress, frustrated, the not knowing driving him crazy. A huge problem just came raining down on them and Sam needs to know what the fuck it is.

"That was-" Dean clears his throat again, continuing with difficulty, "That was Cassie, Sam."

The words hang between them.

Sam realizes he's not breathing, pulling in a huge swallow of air into desperate lungs, "Cassie? Cassie, as in the girl you love Cassie?"

"Yeah."

Sam's stomach twists into sudden knots and he's up pacing before he knows it, "Well, it is a job? Does she need our help with a spirit or something?"

"No." Dean's eyes meet his full on for the first time and there's such a huge sadness welled up there that Sam's heart hurts for him.

"Then, what?" Sam asks, his throat tight, his heart pounding in his chest. The look on Dean's face frightens him more than any words can.

"Sammy, she wants to get back together."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Her mom passed away a few months ago and she started seeing a shrink to help her deal with it. The shrink told her we have unresolved issues between us and now, she wants to resolve them and see if we can try again, you know? See where things go."

"Well, you can't!" Sam bursts out petulantly, "You're taken!"

Dean gives him a look, "How the hell am I supposed to tell her that, Sam? Gee, Cassie, I'm sorry but I'm involved with someone and oh, by the way, my new lover is my brother. Yeah, I know it's sick and twisted but I can't seem to live without a good fuck in the ass or sucking on a big dick every day. I mean, come on, Sam! What do you want me to say to her?"

"But…" Sam's voice fails him as he realizes the implications, the repercussions and he grasps at the straw of an errant thought, "Wait, the whole reason you aren't together now is because you're on the road all the time hunting. That hasn't changed."

Dean sighs heavily, "She wants to come with us for a couple of weeks, see what it's about, see if she can live like this."

"No way…"

"Yeah."

Sam sits down heavily on the bed next to Dean and puts his arms around him, pulling him close, hugging him tight. Dean leans into him, hugging back, burying his face in Sam's neck. Sam tries to fight off the emotions that are overwhelming him, struggling to hold back tears, fear and anger rearing up in him. It had to happen _now_, just when they had gotten back to each other, just when they were starting new.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Sam asks the air in front of him.

Dean's muffled voice comes out from Sam's skin, "I wish to Christ I knew, Sam."

*


	8. Chapter 8

*

She's been with them for four days now.

*

She came by bus, calling Dean to come meet her and kissing him deeply when they first laid eyes on each other. It hurt his heart because he did love her, in his own way, in another time and her taste is familiar, bringing back memories of quieter moments, easier days. The smell of her hair, the feel of her in his arms reminds Dean of late nights in her room, sweaty sheets and hot skin, the way she moaned and threw her head back when he kissed her neck, the way her legs wrapped around his back, holding him tight, as he fucked her deep.

Dean had picked her up alone because Sam, well, Sam just couldn't, and after he stowed her bags in the trunk, she had kissed him again and God help him, Dean kissed her back, pushing away the gnawing feeling festering in his gut, the one that said he was cheating on his brother. When she went to get in the car, he'd pulled her back with a growl and planted another deep one on her, pulling her ass in tight, grinding her against him, and she broke free with a patient smile and a quick shake of her head.

Leaning in, she whispered into his ear, "Later."

Dean drove her back to the motel and brought her in to say hello to Sam but his brother was gone, the room empty and dark. He called Sam's cell and when it was answered, Sam's voice was low and hurting, mumbling he was at the movies to give Dean and Cassie some time alone.

Silence between them on the phone stretched to eternity and Dean closed his eyes against the sudden tears that burned there. The hurt between them was a living thing, raw and bleeding and all he could manage was a whispered "Sammy…"

Even that was too much for the lump in his throat.

Sam's strangled, "I know." hurt his heart more than recriminations ever could.

He wanted Sam to get angry, yell hot accusations and hurtful words, throw some punches, lash out and lay blame so that he could hit back, hurt Sam back and the two of them could get this shit out of them already, maybe lessen the guilt in his gut. Anything was better than this awful hole in Dean, eating him alive, crushing him down until he felt lost, cold and drowning with no way out.

But Sam refused to fight. Instead, he'd been supportive, understanding, loving and that pissed Dean off more than anything. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

He hung up the phone without another word and rubbed away the wet from his eyes. Cassie was unpacking her things when he turned around and the bizarre scene hit him hard, like he was in a Twilight Zone episode or something. Why the hell was she here? They had never had anybody on the road with them except their Dad and Dean was at a loss as to how he was supposed to handle this. Of all the things fate had tossed at him lately, he certainly hadn't seen this one coming.

Cassie turned to look at him and he was struck again by her beauty, as he had been when he'd first seen her, the ruby red lips, the huge eyes, tawny skin that glistened in the last lights of day. She came close, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers stroking through his hair, urging him down and he kissed her softly, pulling her pliant body close to his, running his hands up to tangle in her hair, tugging her head back, revealing a long expanse of throat that he covered with gentle kisses.

She worked her hands under his shirt, pushing it up and over his head and he tossed it to the floor. Her shirt and bra followed and he cupped her breasts, thumbing over a nipple and bending his head to taste the other one, making Cassie moan in her throat. Before he knew it, they were on the bed, naked and kissing, touching and tasting and it was good, just as good as before and as he spread her legs to lick her to orgasm, he wouldn't let himself think of Sam's sad eyes or wistful glances.

He pushed the image of his brother away as he swirled his tongue against Cassie's sweet nub, making her cry out in pleasure, feeling her tremble as the waves of climax hit her and she gasped, bucking her hips up against his mouth and saying his name again and again.

Dean moved on top, entering her easily, not even fumbling because the memories of her were so clear. He knew ever part of her, just how she liked it and he pushed her legs up to get in deeper, his strokes long and deliberate, their panting breaths mingling together as they rocked into and out of each other.

He felt his own orgasm building up, slow and steady and he thrust into her faster, her moans answering his, higher, higher and she shuddered into him as she reached another one, the clenching of her around his dick sending him over the edge. He stiffened, breath exhaling with a rush, spasms quivering through him as he came, pumping his seed into her tight wetness until, empty and exhausted, he pulled out and collapsed next to her, gasping into her neck.

He doesn't feel guilty. He doesn't feel guilty. Shit, who's he kidding?

They murmur to each other easily, like it's always been this way, talking about nothing important and soon tumble into sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

Dean's dreams are restless, his guilt pursuing him into his slumber and he's chased by demons with ruby-red lips and wild hair who want his heart, want to rip it out of his chest and eat it, want to consume him until there's nothing left of him. He runs towards a large dark tower, standing tall and strong just ahead on the horizon but he can't reach it, no matter how fast he runs or what direction he turns, it's always just out of his grasp.

He knows if he gets to the tower, he'll be safe and protected because the structure is filled with love and warmth and it welcomes him, no matter where he's been or what he's done. He races towards it but he can't get there, and he falls down on the ground, crying out his rage and his frustration, and he's so tired of running, so damn tired...

He jerks awake, heart pounding in his chest and looks around without moving, getting his bearings on who and where he is. It's dark in the room, only illuminated by the street lights outside so he must have been asleep for a while. A feminine arm rests on his waist and he feels the warm body pressed to his back, confused for a second until he remembers…Cassie.

A rustle from the bed across the way gets his attention and he sees Sam, staring back at him, eyes so huge and sad that it rips his heart out. They stare into each other for a few moments and without words, Sam stands and goes into the bathroom, not turning on the light but simply waiting. Dean moves Cassie's arm off him and slips out of bed, padding quietly to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. In the dark, he finds Sam's arms, wide open and waiting and Sam hugs him close, their bare chests pressed together, taking comfort in each other, holding on for dear life.

Sam's mouth finds his and the kiss is tender, sweet and sad and Dean feels tears well up in him at the taste and smell of Sam and the feel of his brother's warm skin next to his. Sam's face is damp against his and, as they rock together, Dean reaches up a hand to wipe away Sam's tears.

"I'm so sorry." Dean whispers up in the dark, moving his hands behind that dark head and feeling Sam nod, his cheek against Dean's forehead.

"I know you are." Sam mutters back, kissing him again before pushing him away, "You better get back before she wakes up."

"Sammy."

"Nothing we can do, Dean. No point in talking about it anymore. Now go."

Dean stumbles back to bed and slides back in carefully so he doesn't wake up the sleeping girl. Sam stays in the bathroom for a long time, sitting in the dark and Dean waits for him to come out, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room, worrying and hurting.

When Sam finally comes to bed, Dean rolls over to face him and they fall asleep lost in each other's eyes.

*

Sam makes himself scarce the next day, leaving him and Cassie alone so they can talk and reconnect.

Cassie tells him about her life after Dean left, her work at the newspaper, her mom's recent death and her long talks with the therapist, "I told her about you and me, I mean, not about what you do for a living but that I felt like there was something still there and she thought I should find you, see if you felt the same. So, here I am."

Dean watches her carefully, giving her a small grin, "And here you are."

She studies him, "Look, Dean, I know this is a surprise and I'm sorry that I dropped this on you out of the blue. I honestly never expected to make the call but a lot's changed in the past few months and…I was frightened, desperate. When I thought about you, talked about you, I didn't feel as frightened."

Her eyes fill with tears and she takes his hand, whispering, "I'm not scared when I'm with you."

He opens his mouth to tell her he's involved and she has to go but he can't. Suddenly, he sees how thin she is, how frail she's become. She looks fragile, vulnerable, unlike the Cassie he knew before, as if she'll crumble and break if he so much as breathes the wrong way on her. So he does the only thing he can do, pulls her close and kisses her forehead, wrapping his arms around her to protect her from her fears, from the demons that pursue her in her mind.

They make love again and he's tender with her, wanting her to feel safe and secure, and he caresses her with gentle hands, moving slowly, carefully and she cries herself to sleep in his arms when they're finished.

He's sitting in a chair, watching over her when Sam comes in, letting himself into the room quietly so as not to wake anyone and he turns, staring into Dean's hollow eyes. Dean rubs his face with a tired hand and stands, motioning to Sam to follow him into the bathroom.

Once the door is shut behind them, Dean flips on the light and they gaze at each other longingly. Dean reaches out, needing to touch, to connect with Sam and before he knows what's happening, their lips are smashed together, tongues desperately warring with each other, teeth crashing, arms squeezing the breath out of each other, whimpering and moaning softly and they draw apart, foreheads pressed tightly together and breath heaving into the air between them.

Dean's hand grabs at Sam's pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and yanking down, dropping to his knees, needing Sam's taste on his tongue and he doesn't even try to play or tease. He takes Sam into his mouth, starved for his brother, ravenous and empty, needing to be filled up with all the love, all the goodness that's in Sam. Dean pins him against the wall, licking and sucking, mouth and throat wide open, welcoming the deep thrusts that he's pulling out of Sam's hips, moaning over the sweet, wonderful taste of flesh on his tongue, rubbing his head and face against Sam's trembling hands like a cat caressing its master.

Sam pants, breath rasping out of him and rocks forward into Dean's mouth, holding on for dear life as his brother consumes him, drawing him in deep, insatiable and voracious until Sam explodes into the hot wet surrounding him, hips jerking violently and Dean drinks, pulling every delicious drop in with a sigh of contentment.

"_Jesus_, Dean…" Sam whispers when he can and Dean pulls up his pants, zipping and buttoning and then stands and buries his face in Sam's neck, arms wrapped tight. Sam hugs back, body still quaking in the afterglow of the orgasm Dean just yanked out of him, and they stand together for another precious moment before Dean moves away.

A whispered "I love you." into Sam's ear and Dean is gone, as if he never was and Sam is alone.

*

Sam stands against the wall in the bathroom, devastated and broken, wondering what the hell just happened and where this is all gonna end. Dean's dying inside, Sam can see it and he can't help, god damn it! Cassie is gonna find out because the air between him and Dean crackles with electricity when they're around each other, he can feel it and he's pretty sure it's apparent to anyone looking at them.

That's why Sam's been making himself scarce but he can't just keep leaving because eventually, they have to work – he just heard about a job today, in fact – and as soon as Cassie gets the chance to watch them together, she's gonna know.

Sam can't tell Dean about his fears, not wanting to add pressure to an already impossible situation but the steam is building, coming to a head and pretty soon, it's going to burst wide open and they're going to be exposed. It's just a question of when.

*

Two days later, they're in Plano, Texas and Dean is at the computer, researching the legend of Lavender Blue, a ghostly hitchhiker who pops up for one week each year, the week of her birthday, to thumb a ride back to her house. The unsuspecting driver brings her home and turns to find an empty back seat where she sat just moments before. Usually, there's nothing more than a scare involved but this time, she killed someone, slashing their throat as they parked in front of her house.

The accounts are scattered and mixed, but no where does it say Lavender has ever become violent. Dean's reading some obscure urban legend sites, filled with variations on the story and Cassie has pulled up a chair next to him. Sam is pacing behind them with a book in hand, stopping every few seconds to spout out something he found.

Focusing on the job helps Dean not think too much about the total weirdness of the ride here, with Cassie in the passenger seat instead of Sam, Cassie at his side instead of Sam. It's not right and it doesn't fit, making Dean feel off-balance and sluggish, bitchy and wrong, like he's pulled in a thousand directions and no path is the right one to choose.

He looks sideways at Cassie. She looks better today, more in control, more like her old self. And she's trying to distract him, keeping a warm hand on his knee, occasionally rubbing higher and he struggles to keep his mind on his work, keep his focus on the text in front of him but with Sam and Cassie both in the room, the tension inside him is at a breaking point.

He starts to read the words aloud so Sam can hear and it helps keep his attention on task, especially when Sam interrupts him every few seconds to shoot a question at him.

Dean narrows his eyes as Cassie's hand does one of her upward swings and he loses his place in the thick reading, in the middle of answering one of Sam's queries.

"What?" Sam snaps, confused because Dean's not making sense.

Sam stops behind him and bends down, reaching over Dean's shoulder to place a finger on the screen and see what the article actually says.

Dean feels Sam's breath on his cheek and his brother's clean smell fills his head, his heart fluttering at Sam's nearness. He turns his head and Sam's cheek is close enough to kiss. All coherent thought flies out of Dean's mind and he forgets the job, the room, the computer and the girl sitting next to him. There's only Sam.

"That's not what it says, Dean." Sam says, pointing at the monitor, his eyes finding Dean's, "You missed a whole paragraph…" Sam trails off, staring into Dean's eyes.

Their lips are so close to each other that if Dean moves an inch, they'd be touching and Dean can't breathe suddenly, struggling mightily not to grab Sam and pull him close and it looks as if Sam's feeling the same thing, his eyes dark and longing and he licks his lips, damn him! Like Dean needed that right there to happen.

There's no air between them which is ok because neither one of them is breathing and time seems to stop, holding still and silent as they study each other's eyes, each other's faces and Dean's head is filled with Sam's smell, that god damn fucking _smell_ that makes him remember Sam's sweet taste, decadent and luscious, and the feel of Sam under him, skin to skin, moving together, his long legs wrapped around Dean, kissing and thrusting, grunting and moaning and Sam's eyes, hot, passionate, watching Dean move, letting Dean have him, own him.

"But further down, it says twenty years ago, there was another incident similar to this one." Cassie's voice penetrates, breaking the moment. Dean blinks and Sam is gone, back behind them and Dean's left gasping with the loss of Sam's presence, his warmth that's no longer near him.

"You ok?" Cassie murmurs in Dean's ear, running her hand back up his thigh, lightly touching his sudden bulge in his pants, "Looks like I'm distracting you…"

"Mmm, a little." Dean lets her think what she wants. He knows what really distracted him, what gave him the sudden hard-on that poked up out of nowhere and it sure wasn't the hand on his leg.

No matter how good it was with Cassie, no matter how much love he had felt for her before and how fond he is of her now, he suddenly realizes something basic, something deep and he was an idiot to think it could ever be anything different.

Sam is the one he loves, heart, mind and soul. Sam is the one he needs.

Only Sam can get him this hot and bothered, can turn him steamy in an instant, can make him want to declare his love for his brother openly.

Sam was right. He is taken and has been ever since that first massage, that first night of love with his baby brother. He can't escape it, can't go back and truth be told, doesn't want to. They've been through a lot to get to this point, he and Sam, and he wants to give them a chance, see what they can become together. But they sure can't have that with Cassie here. But how can he send her away when she's so needy, so helpless? And what's he supposed to do with her when they're on a hunt? Take her along? No way.

He opens his mouth before he talks himself out of it, "Sam, can you give us some time? I need to talk to Cassie alone."

Sam looks at him, searching his face for some clue as to what's going on but Dean won't meet his eyes.

"Sure." He grabs his coat and goes to the door, looking back in Dean with a puzzled expression before leaving quickly.

"Dean, I know you were getting turned on but we can wait until tonight, don't you think?" Cassie's eyes smile into his.

He pushes back his chair and shakes his head, "We need to talk."

*

When Sam gets back two hours later, the Impala is gone and the room is empty. With a sigh, he sits down in front of his laptop, pulling up the same website Dean was reading before to look it over more carefully. Half hour later, he hears the key in the lock and turns around to see Dean, bag of food in his arms, wrestling to get the key out and the door closed behind him. He sets down the groceries and stands, staring at Sam in the fading light for an aching moment.

"Where is she?" Sam asks hoarsely.

Dean throws his keys on the bed and marches over, dropping to his knees in front of Sam and grabbing his face, pulling him forwards, covering Sam's mouth with a stirring kiss, tender and gentle, tasting Sam's tongue with slow strokes. He earns a deep groan of passion as Sam opens up for him, taking him in and giving it back, lusty and hot, hands sliding over Dean's face to his ears, caressing along his neck and hair, urging Dean to give him more.

Dean breaks the kiss and thumbs Sam's cheek gently, his heart almost breaking with need and he stares hard at Sam's mouth, loving the way his lips part for breath and the curl that rolls up in one corner, giving a hint of a smile, the smooth pink skin with the shock of white teeth underneath. He rubs the pad of his thumb over Sam's bottom lip, "I brought her to the bus station, Sam. Cassie's gone."

Sam's mouth falls open with that and he stutters, "What the hell happened?"

"I told her she was distracting me from doing my job and that I was spending my time worrying about her instead of doing what I was supposed to be doing – saving people. I said I might end up getting hurt or getting you hurt because she was around. Then, I told her she was welcome to stay until she got back on her feet again but she couldn't go hunting with us or get involved with our work so she'd just have to stay in the motel room while we hunted and wait for us and that was the only way I could make sure she was safe."

Dean takes a deep breath, admitting slowly "Sam, I-I told her I was in love with someone else and that I couldn't be with her anymore. She didn't ask me who with. I said she and I had something a long time ago but I changed and moved on and she needed to move on, too."

Sam looked like he was in shock, "How'd she take all this?"

"She cried some but then she stopped and told me she could go stay with her aunt for a while until she was better. She actually looked a little relieved that she didn't have to go hunt evil things with us. It went better than I hoped."

"What the hell brought all this on? What made you do this now?" Sam asked, confused and scared to be hopeful.

"Sammy, she doesn't belong with us. She was going to get killed or get us killed. I had to send her away. Besides…"

"Besides what?"

Dean shrugs, "I think she may have known about us and if she didn't yet, she would've found out soon enough. A couple more days and she would've known it was you, Sam. Outside in public, I can pretend. But in here, I can't and it was coming out. I saw her looking at me a few times when I was looking at you and I could tell she was starting to wonder. I had to do something and now, she thinks it's another woman, at least on the surface and that's good enough."

They look at each other and a relieved smile tugs at the corner of Sam's mouth, "So, we can-?"

"Hell, yeah, we can! First we need to take care of this hitchhiking ghost and then, Sammy…"

"Then what?" Sam smiles at him big, dimples out in full force, eyes dancing.

Dean grins back at him wickedly, nuzzling Sam's lips with his own, "Then we're coming back here and I'm gonna make you feel so good, you're gonna forget your own name."

"Mmm" Sam chuckles, "Now _that's_ the best idea I've heard in four days!"

*

-The end - (really this time :D)

*

**A/N: Ok, I was going to post this under its own story but it needed to be the final chapter here. Hope you all don't mind.**


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